Excerpt:

She rode as if the Gods themselves were chasing her. She leaned over the bronzed back of her horse, her chest pressed against the sturdy beast. Her hands groped, fingers tangled in the horse’s mane. Her head bowed low over the horse’s neck; the copper threads of her hair tangling with the mane, making them seem as one. Its tips whipped erratically back at her, stinging the tender skin of her cheeks and neck.
It was, however, not the cause of the wetness soaking those same windblown cheeks, nor the cause of the tears that swelled and tumbled from eyes the color of the sea during a violent storm.
She felt as though she herself was the storm, building and churning towards its crescendo, not knowing when the waves would crest and collapse down around her. She fought the rising tempest with every fiber of her mortal self, fingers tightening until they were death white, lean legs trembling but holding firm to the horse’s flanks. She urged him faster, faster. She used the pounding of his hooves to beat out the crashing of her own heart; to destroy the anguish blazing a turbulent path through her body.
As she clung desperately to the horse, she could feel its strong steady heartbeat and she struggled to focus on it, to become a part of it as they raced along the grassy knolls towards the nothingness and the forever stretched out before her.