I'm so weird no 1

The Shapeshifter horses were no mystery to the royal palace. Sleek, proud creatures that could take on human form, they were bred and raised from birth within the palace grounds as symbols of wealth and power. The princess already had one a magnificent stallion, groomed to perfection and trained for royal parades.

But Lillian was nothing like the palace-bred shapeshifters.

She had been born in the wild, under the open sky, running with a free herd that knew nothing of human hands or stone walls. Her coat was pure white, almost shimmering, with a mane and tail that flowed like silk in the wind. Her eyes held the clear light of untamed meadows, and unlike the others, her scent was rare blue rose after rain, refreshing and elegant,

a fragrance that lingered faintly in the air wherever she passed.

It was that scent that betrayed her.

One spring day, she wandered away from her herd, chasing the glint of water between the trees. She roamed too far, her curiosity pulling her into strange woods where no familiar scent lingered. By the time she realized she was alone, the wind carried the faint tang of leather and steel.

Elsewhere in the forest, a party of knights searched for the perfect gift for the princess’s upcoming birthday. Jewels and gold had been offered before — but this year, the king desired something that would make the court gasp in awe.

The one who found her hadn’t been looking at all. He was riding ahead of the others, letting his horse pick its way between the shadows, when a glimmer caught his eye — a pale thread of hair drifting beneath the bushes, stirred by the night breeze. The moon was full, and when its silver light slid through the branches, it revealed her.

A mare unlike any he had ever seen.

Her coat gleamed like snow under moonlight, her mane and tail rippling as if stirred by invisible fingers. She stood grazing quietly, head lowered, her breath steaming faintly in the cool air.

The knight’s chest tightened. He held his breath, afraid to disturb her. But the faint, sharp sound of that breath was enough.

Her head shot up, ears swiveling, nostrils flaring as her rare fragrance drifted between them. For a heartbeat, they stared at one another — man and wild creature — until she spun and bolted, white mane flashing through the dark.

“Over here!” the knight roared, spurring his mount forward. Hoofbeats erupted all around as the others closed in, their natural horses trained for speed and pursuit.

She was fast — faster than any they’d seen — weaving between trees, the wind tossing her mane like a banner of white fire. But her scent lingered in the air, guiding them as surely as a trail of light.

The first rope missed. The second whipped past her flank by inches. But the third — thrown with a sharp, practiced snap — looped clean over her neck and yanked tight.

She screamed, a high, piercing neigh, jerking her head violently to tear free. Her hooves pounded the earth, mane lashing around her as she twisted and fought, the rope biting into her skin. But the circle of riders closed in, their ropes pulling from all sides, until her body trembled with exhaustion and the fight drained from her limbs.

They had her. And the knight who first saw her knew — this was no ordinary capture. This was the gift that would outshine every jewel in the palace.

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