The horses cut sharp silhouettes in the fog that suffocatingly blanketed the mountainside and filled the valley below like a muggy soup, their heads bent to the grass, their tales slicing through the heavy air. Their hair was rough and visibly coarse in patches, but not from forced contact with bridle or saddle- these creatures would have none. No rope tied the animals to the spot, but the five of them nonetheless remained obediently clustered around Felipe, who slid gracefully from mare to mare, lovingly stroking their manes and crooning strings of disjointed French phrases into their ears. Felipe wore a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a bare chest, a battered Montreal Canadians hat, no shoes, and a crooked smile. When he spoke the words tumbled off his tongue in an odd hybrid of French and Canadian accents and expressions, and were often slurred and abandoned as his chest would swell with delight at his own wit and his deep-bellied chuckle would cut him off.
Brendan, my tousle-haired, blue-eyed cousin of 17, stood behind me, draping himself against my back and letting his chin rest on my shoulder as his eyelids drooped. Not an early riser. My older sister, Erin, stood with her hood pulled over her head and arm linked with my younger cousin, Hope, who, like her brother, sagged tiredly into my sister's supporting frame. We stood in silence and waited as dawn crept upon us, early morning rays illuminating the white crowns of the mountains that lined the horizon, slicing through the fog.
Felipe, watching the new light scatter the murky film that had left us unable to see further than our small clearing, clapped his hands together in delight. "Merveilleux!" he enthused, motioning emphatically for us to scoot towards him and his small herd. "We begin!"
Brendan was the first to have his forearm snagged as he was dragged towards a sturdy-looking mare with broad haunches and a nonchalant demeanor. One by one, Felipe cupped his hand as we placed a foot there, only for him to launch us onto the patiently waiting creatures. Brendan lay draped across his horse's back for a few moments as Felipe attended to the rest of us, before wrapping his arms around the mare's neck and sliding himself forward and pushing his torso upright.
Felipe led me to a gray horse, tall and lean, eyes black and staring but somehow kind. As he hoisted me up, I was careful to settle gently, wrapping my fingers securely into the creature's knotted mane.
None of this took much time at all, and the sun was still struggling to crest the horizon as Felipe clicked his tongue and led us from the clearing. All of our mounts followed obediently.
Soon we would be on our own, free to roam.
We hit a mountain path and, with no warning, Felipe took off, his tough young mare racing along the spongy ground and out of sight into the higher-altitude trees. The others had shaken off their post-slumber drowsiness, and had watched Felipe shove his heels into his mount's sides before the pair took off above the timberline. We all followed suit.
My horse needed no further instruction; I could feel her masses of muscle bunch and stretch beneath me as she flew up the grassy slope, carrying me effortlessly into the short-lived forest and then above the tree line. We broke ahead of the others, but they soon fell into step behind us, gliding along the side of the mountain. The valley unfolded below; verdant groves of lush vegetation, cascading waterfalls of the sharpest blue, the blue of mountain glaciers, the blue of absolute purity. As we rode, the forest woke, and the birds began to climb above the treetops, borne by the crisp, post-dawn breeze, even as the cries and calls of those confined to the ground rose into the air with them.
Without warning, we plunged down an unseen slope, the horses managing to crash gracefully back down the mountainside, tumbling down into the tender foliage. Leaves whipped my face as I flatted against my mare's haunches, and I could hear Brendan shouting something behind me, loudly disgruntled by our change of course. But we soon cleared the trees, emerging into another, larger clearing. Before us unfolded a lake, a glacially-carved bowl filled with water the blue of the sky, as clear as the air flooding our lungs. Another mountain range stood before us, equal to though opposite the other, mirror images of its perfectly reflected earthly counterpart.
But our horses did not hesitate at the water's edge- instead, we plunged forward into the water, which struck my chest like a slab of ice and stabbed into my limbs like a thousand knives. It could have been a hundred thousand degrees, and my shocked body would not have known the difference; I heard my sister and cousins yelp behind me as their horses followed mine's lead. And then I was floating, floating forward into the image of the mountaintops, floating but not of my own volition, resting weightlessly on my mare's back as she carried me into water unpolluted by the civilization that existed now far out of sight and farther out of mind.
As I watched, entranced, as I cut effortlessly through the bitingly cold waters, the far shore came into sight, and with it a recognizable silhouette. There stood Felipe, hand absentmindedly running along his mount's neck, dripping wet and grinning broadly, waving wildly as we approached. Erin, Hope, and Brendan pulled even with me and my horse, their own swimming along as calmly as mine, bearing us all with ease. None of us spoke.
None of us but Felipe, who called out to us as we were brought abruptly back into direct contact with our mares as they hoisted us out of the waters and onto the shore. Then we all slid off the lovely animals that had borne us here, only to crumple as our legs, still in shock, reached the ground. Now towering above us, Felipe swept his hands out before him, and we followed his gaze to look back from where we had come.
A deep-bellied, full-throated laugh bubbled from Felipe, and he asked simply, "Well?"
He paused. "It's something, eh?"
It certainly was something.
