Leading ponies laden with mysterious bundles, the Owlers crept down narrow tracks, through sunken lanes, up steep bridlepaths and along forgotten byways. Their ponies were black or bay, and any blaze or sock was darkened with soot. With their tack and hooves muffled, they moved as silently as ghost-horses, and the men that walked beside them did not speak, or cough, or smoke their pipes. Slumped on the back of one of the ponies, poked on all sides with boxes and parcels, Emilia felt the night seeping into her very pores. She felt the wind moving over her skin and through the trees; she heard the far-distant bark of a badger and the invisible gurgle of water over stones; she saw a constant ruffle at the edges of the darkness as leaves rustled, clouds drifted, grass swayed and the hunters of the night leapt past on soundless paw or muffled wing. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. And, because she did not need to guide her pony, which blindly followed the tail of the pony before it, Emilia found her eyes giving up their urgent desire to see, and allowing her nose and ears and skin to see for her.
What do You think about The Lightning Bolt (2007)?
