‘We’re actually quite similar, you and I. I wonder which of us is worse off. I’m broken too, and right now I’d welcome a broken leg if it mean... that my heart could somehow mend. I feel like my existence is threatened, that’s what it seems like.’ The horse seemed almost like she understood, and gently nuzzled my hand as I spoke to her, as if trying to comfort me. My voice lowered to a whisper. ‘I love him, you know, I’m sure of that now.’ The intense realization came upon me quickly. I of course. She is the ring leader of it all, the initiator of the whole thing. And she sings the most powerful, her voice a rolling wave of thunder, a stinging tail of a bee, and a sweet syrupy pour of honey on the tongue. This girl bellows her lungs out while the others whisper. She holds nothing back and fills the plantation with the noise of her fearless pipes. All this, enrages John. His slave is not behaving. She is rebelling like an activist, and this pisses stern John off. How dare she sing at. More

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