Galloping in the mountains 

I see the path in front of me. It’s fairly flat with just a few rocks – it’s perfect for a canter. 

It’s going to be a cheeky one. I trot ahead, so the rest of the group is far enough not to hear. Diego is the only one of the four Argentines keeping up. 

– This stretch is perfect for a canter, I tell him.

He agrees and asks me to take the lead. Not that he actually has to, but I’m being polite and modest. 

Off I go and the soft canter makes the blood in my body rush and before I know it, Diego is far behind me and I’m riding my horse at a full gallop. 


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