At your current size, walking along a single stalk of straw is akin to walking atop a train that isn't even moving. When you come to the end of one, you simply jump to another one and continue on. You count five long stalks of walking before you make it to the stall door. Still, you have no idea where you are going besides "away," but anything has to be better than that horse, right?
Speaking of which... You hear a rustle behind you and the stalk you're standing on vibrates slightly. You turn back and see the titanic head of the equine beast half buried in the pile of straw. You thank your good decision making, but can't help but imagine yourself inside that mouthful the creature lifts away with. You turn around and put on a little burst of speed.
As you hop down onto the dirt, you finally see that your journey to wherever is going to be an arduous one: pieces of straw litter the ground all across what you can see of the floor, which isn't much. Where there isn't straw, you make out rolling hills, the product of regular traffic, which spells trouble for you. You can still easily make out the Clydesdale in the opposite stall, absently standing there, oblivious to you.
Thankfully, many of the straw stalks you come to can be walked under, but a few of them do require you to either walk around or climb over, both of which waste precious time. The hills and prints are no different. Regardless, after over an hour of traversing the rough terrain of a floor, you've managed to make it to the center of the stable walkway, and you stop and catch a breather, sitting on a grain of sand nearly as tall as you. You look around and see all that you can inside, and it kind of freaks you out. You're still having trouble contemplating just how small you are
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