Perma Red: Champagne
Baptiste slapped his thighs and Champagne ran faster. They were running dead speed, the ground passed quickly beneath them, pale rocks, twigs, sage, the highway, the railroad tracks gleamed beneath them. She felt light. Her hair whipped her face. She had never ridden a horse so fast. She heard the spray of gravel, the hard ground was passing. She held her breath and held on. (44)
Earling, Debra Magpie. Perma Red. New York: BlueHen Books, 2002.