Somhairle Callanach would be lying if he said he had a plan for this horse.
The decision to take on the bay mare had been spontaneous. There was no preparation, no plan, to blueprint he could even follow. Just a horse with a set of awfully questionable issue. Now, the young man sat perched upon the old fence, lips pursed as he watched the mare graze calmly in the distance, frustration simmering in his d...
