illphated
Riding the Wild Current
The air was thick with dust, the sky split between the golden blaze of the setting sun and the deep blue of approaching night. Maeve rode low over the saddle, her black hat pulled tight, long hair whipping like a banner of war. Beneath her, her stallion, Crow, pounded the earth in perfect rhythm with her heartbeat.
The #herd was surging, a tide of muscle and wild eyes, hooves drumming the dry land like a storm ready to break. Maeve could feel their energy—chaotic, unbridled, alive. The art of the roundup wasn’t just in skill; it was in understanding the rhythm of the beasts, feeling their pulse as if it were her own.
To her left, Boone hollered something, but the wind stole his words. She knew what he meant. They had to push the herd toward the canyon pass before nightfall. Too late, and the shadows would turn the cattle into ghosts, scattering them like embers in the wind.
Maeve let out a sharp whistle and kicked #Crow into a new stride. She wove between the beasts, the scent of sweat and dust filling her lungs, her muscles burning with the effort of command. She raised her lasso, the rope an extension of her will, and in one fluid motion, she caught the lead steer. The moment it happened, the herd shifted—like a great wave breaking, they followed the pull, their chaos bending into control.
Boone rode up beside her, breathless, eyes alight with the same fire she felt inside.
“Damn, Maeve,” he said, a grin splitting his dust-covered face. “You ride like a storm.”
She tipped her hat, feeling the sweat drip down her back, the weight of the moment settling.
“Nah,” she said, glancing back at the swirling dust and the moving herd. “Just riding the current.”
And with that, they drove the last of the #cattle into the canyon, the night swallowing the day, the land still pulsing with the echo of hooves.
A short story by #illphated