The Stallion

Atop a snowcovered hill...
Just before sunset...

"Waiting atop a snowcovered hill, the two standing silent, facing the
sunset in the west. The one eyed old man mumbling strange words into the
cold air. The haze spreading fast across the purple and blue vault. The
winds taking up speed, bending the trees down the valley, throwing the snow
crystals up and against the mountainside into gigantic sparkling clouds
high in the sky. The voice of the one eyed old man becoming stronger. The
words now spoken with increased intensity as if he was calling someone or
something. And so a hazy white figure appears on the horizon, blazing
across the sky with the speed of the winds... a part of the wind. A horse
as white as snow, galopping across the mist, its eight hooves blistering
like bolts of lightning. The one eyed old man crying out loud in the blaze
to him, to take its reins and not to let go.
And thus he had been given The Stallion..."

Tendons and muscles of steel.
And the blaze of lightning in its eyes.
White as the snow on the hills.
And it's reins, that I hold, they are mine.

This stallion and sword in exchange
for my heart and both of my eyes.
The ravens of swift wings my sight
Surely now victory must be mine.

Eight legged stallion of mine.