My horse was ready to bolt — his ears pricked, his muscles tense. A few feet ahead, a herd of wild horses stared back at us; they’d been unaware of us for most of our ascent from the valley below. Horned lizards shuffled in the sagebrush beneath us, but my horse’s gaze remained locked on his untamed brethren.
Moments later we were galloping at full speed beneath the rugged backdrop of the towering Absaroka Range. We fell in line with the back of the herd — alongside the foals scrambling to keep up with their mothers — and were bombarded by chunks of earth flying up from their thundering hooves.
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