You curse. It's Hurricane, a courser and the Ranch's prized stallion. He'd been retired lately, used primarily to sire new filly's and colts. You step out to try and usher him back into the stall but he ignores your orders.
This wasn't entirely surprising, he wasn't the easiest to work with, having something of a mind his own but tonight you have his undivided attention. He neighs excitedly, nuzzling and taking great interest.
It gives you an idea. You brush past him, a little awkward in the right hallway but Hurricane doesn't seem to mind. His scent is heavier today, but he follows your movements not too far behind. Once or twice rearing up as if trying to climb onto you. It's strange but your relieved to have his attention able to lead him back to his stable.
Hastily you shut the service door leaving the pair of you inside, together. You still have his attention, and go to try and open the stable door and leave.
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