Devon Hills | Devon's Haux
Every memory is precious, invincible and priceless. They are made of chemical responses in our brains, and yet they impact our consciousness and lives tremendously. Each sunrise, each storm, each tear and each smile...No matter how painful, each memory cannot be taken away from you. They can only be buried in our minds, locked away, or they can be relived whenever we choose to venture within.
Every photo in this scrapbook has a memory and a title. Some are good, and some are bad, but the point still stands; each entry is a testament that we lived life to the fullest. Yesterday is the past, and we live in today to change the future of tomorrow.
The stampeding sound of hooves thumping on grass was unmistakable, adrenaline was flowing strongly in her veins. Talita held her reins tight on Devon's Haux for the next obstacle. His heavy snorts were barely audible against the rushing wind, but she could feel his excitement. The stallion knew what to do, and barely did the bay horse obey the cues to maintain the strides.
He wanted to jump. Haux was begging to be allowed to leap over the jump with each twang of powerful haunches. There was a little bit of nervous energy about Talita, solely because this obstacle was right next to the spectator line... Right where the television crews watched their every move with hawk like prowess.
'Oh god...' Her inner voice gulped, glancing at the crowd as they made the turn to the jump, only a few strides left.
This was the last jump.
'Keep it together... Just a little farther...' The woman prayed silently, focusing on Haux, pressing him forward.
With glee, as if the novice stallion had jumped this course a hundred times, Haux lifted off the soft terrain flawlessly. This is what he had been waiting for, and Talita took quiet relief that her mount enjoyed what he did with such gusto.