This week's Open on Sunday challenge is transportation.

Shmoop warning.

When I Was On Horseback

She sang, and the wind sang with her, lifting her hair off her neck, warming her, cooling her. Beneath her, the big gelding felt her ease up on the reins, and jumped from canter to thundering gallop, his lethal hooves sending up dark clumps of the loamy Devon soil.

When she returned, Giles saw the horse was sweating. He said nothing, but Willow caught his look.

"Sorry," she said. "I'll rub him down. He's such an amazing way to get from point A to point B."

"Willow, is there something wrong?"

"Yes." Her voice fractured. "Tara would have loved this."

t loves the schmoop

t sniffles. Or would if weren't still giggling from silly movie.

Awww. Tara WOULD have loved that.

Maybe I'll join Open on Sunday.

It's a good community for drabbles. But it demands 100 words exactly.

I kind of like that demand, actually. Been thoroughly enjoying hp100.

Excellent disciplinary tool, that demand - I find it hones things, and not only in writing fic, but also in fiction.

Another transportation drabble.

Because It's There

One hand over the the other. No pitons, no ropes.

The monastery is halfway up Lhotse's north face. He's left the building quickly, neither knowing nor caring whether the Buddhist monks were puzzled. He suspects not - they're very wise.

Limned in ice crystals far below, the Khumbu Icefall is a cathedral of frozen trilithons. He stands shivering, halfway between Tibet and eternity. The ragged unmistakeable summit of Everest, fabulous against the evening sky, is suddenly obscured by blowing cloud.

Then the moon breaks the surface, gibbous, golden, and full.

And suddenly, Oz is travelling on four legs, not two.

Well, my first try is not nearly so poignant. I'm not so good at poignant.

Van

When most people saw the van, they didn't get it. It was dirty, and ugly, and it kinda smelled funny. About half the time it didn't start on the first try, the brakes pulled to the right, and it drank gas like a kalthar demon. (Though, luckily, the van didn't season it with human blood.)

When Willow saw it, she got it. Immediately. The van was like its owner. Simple, useful, and it always pulled through in the end. And, inside, it was soft and warm and comforting - even the smell.

His van had character, and that character was Oz.

they didn't it

A word missing?

It's a neat piece, it is.

Nice catch. Thanks, it was in my LJ post as well. Had to remove another word to keep it at 100, but that was not a problem, luckily.

Excellent drabbles. Must resist temptation to drabble about Cavaliers, now.ETA: I *hate* when they're so insistent about the 100 words. Cause Munch talks too much and goes over, like he resists on principle. Rules. I don't need no stinkin' rules.;)