Movement One

 Snow drifted through the towering pines as a young girl lay across the back of a brawny horse, one arm hanging loosely over its side, her eyes eyes half closed against the cold. Below her, the mountain fell away into a wonderland of white, the trees rising from it like ancient sentinels benath the dying light. She could have stayed there forever, suspended between sleep and waking, listening  to the quiet of a place that had always felt more like home than anywhere else in the world.

Nothing moved.

Nothing made sound.

Then the horse jerked its head.

“What’s the matter, boy?” she asked, yawning and wiping her eyes.

The horse stood frozen, staring intensely over the cliff into the forest below.