Astoria charged forward with a determination that was both bewildering and captivating. Her hooves pounded the ground with a rhythm that seemed in sync with my own racing heart. As if directed by some unseen force, she dodged mourners and obstacles with grace and precision, her focus solely on the wooden casket that held my husband’s lifeless body.
The mourners gasped and scattered, parting like waves before the prow of a ship, unsure of whether to halt the horse or let her be. I stood frozen, rooted to my spot, as if time itself had paused to witness this surreal moment. Her sudden appearance had transformed the somber gathering into a scene of chaotic confusion.
Astoria reached the coffin and rose on her hind legs, a majestic silhouette against the gray sky. Her front hooves came down with a force that reverberated through the coffin’s lid, splitting it open with a crack that echoed through the cemetery. I gasped and clasped my hand to my mouth, my mind struggling to comprehend what was happening.
