Angel and the Flying Stallions. Stacy Gregg

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       Chapter 1

      It was after midnight in the stables of El Caballo Danza Magnifico, but the bay stallion was wide awake. He paced restlessly in his loose box, his noble head held high as he caught the scent on the night air, nostrils flared and muzzle quivering.

      He was not like the other stallions here in Southern Spain. The Lipizzaners and Andalusians in these stables boasted famous bloodlines that could be traced back for centuries. Valuable beyond measure, each of the stallions had been schooled in the ways of classical dressage, trained to perform the elaborate manoeuvres of the haute école.

      The bay stallion was leaner and more streamlined than the stocky Spanish purebreds in the stalls around him. His Andalusian blood had been mixed with Arabian and Thoroughbred, which imbued him with a rare speed and stamina that the heavy-set purebreds could never possess.

      His name was Storm, and when he had first arrived at El Caballo he had been no more than a leggy and headstrong young colt. Since then he had grown strong, grazing with the herd on the upper pastures in the shadow of the mountains of the Sierra de Grazalema. The colt had become a stallion, and at sixteen-three hands high he was even taller than his sire, the great grey stallion Marius, who was currently asleep in his loose box just a few doors along.

      In the still of the night, Storm could hear the sound of hoofbeats approaching at a gallop. He raised his elegant head into the air and let loose a whinny. His sharp call was a warning cry to the herd of mares grazing the pastures outside the walls of the compound. Danger was coming.

      The mares heard the bay stallion’s clarion call and a moment later they too heard the thunder of hooves drawing closer.

      The herd was gripped with panic and the mares and their foals began to scatter in every direction. One of the mares, Margarita, СКАЧАТЬ