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It's seven pm on a Wednesday, the sun is getting low in the sky, and Alex is riding Calypso. The mare's ears flick back and forth, listening to the birds chirping, and, distantly but getting louder, the waves. She knows what's coming.
They exit the trees onto the beach, Alex gives her a little slack on the reins, and a nudge to the ribs. Calypso snorts, and goes from an energetic trot to a ground-eating gallop.
All Alex has to do is hold on and take it in - the wind whistling in her ears, Calypso's hooves pounding on the sand, the smell of salt water, the sun warm on her back.
For a precious few moments, as Alex closes her eyes, she can forget about her mother's disappearance, Walter Davidson being weird, the deer that tried to attack her and Kyle, and why, exactly, Alfred refuses to leave the Lighthouse.