This noisy black creature would be the start of it all: a horse startled, his eye round, scraped white around it, a white tear streak under the eye, also scraped. Mouth open as it whinnied in protest at being seen, then reared and wheeled away, as it had done on the ridge, in that moment when some part of Loon had been born, his wander's great moment, when he had realized the world was stuffed with a meaning he couldn't express. Right here he would express what could not be expressed, for all to see.
( Kim Stanley Robinson )
[ Shaman: A novel of the Ice Age ]
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