As she galloped toward the procession, people gasped and scrambled out of the way. My heart pounded as I watched Astoria approach with an intensity that bordered on madness. I had no idea how she managed to break free, but her presence was both unsettling and oddly comforting.
Astoria had always been a graceful creature, her coat a gleaming chestnut that caught the light in a way that made her seem almost ethereal. My husband used to say that she had an old soul, one that seemed to understand the depths of human emotion. Perhaps that was why she was here, defying expectations and social norms to say her final goodbye.
