The moment my hooves touched the open field, I understood this was no longer the stable.

  The space was wide.

  Short grass spread in every direction, trimmed and even, with nothing overhead to limit the sky.

  I didn’t know whether this field lay beside the stable or behind it.

  I only knew it was far enough that the familiar scent of straw felt distant.

  The stable was still visible if I tilted my body and turned my head just right.

  Horses weren’t built to look straight behind themselves.

  Our eyes sat on the sides, wide and alert, made for distance rather than detail.

  The field felt larger because of it.

  My vision stretched far, catching movement and shape with ease.

  Yet... I couldn’t tell whether the grass here truly green like in my old world was, or simply something my mind labeled as green out of habit.

  Earlier, while walking out, I hadn’t been able to see the trainer at all, even though I knew he was right in front of me.

  Now he stood at my side.

  Only then did I understand how this body perceived space.

  My tail flicked without thought when an itch crawled along my flank.

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  My ears turned on their own, reacting faster than my mind.

  Muscles I had never owned before answered silently.

  “So,” the trainer said, clapping his hands once.

  “Now we’ll begin your training, Angela.”

  My ears pinned back.

  Anger rose sharp and immediate.

  “I’m Eliza. Eliza!”

  The protest left my mouth as nothing more than a harsh snort, breath forced through a throat that could no longer form words.

  The trainer flinched. “H-hey, easy! What’s wrong with you?”

  He scratched his head, confused. “I did what the prince told me. He said you liked that name.”

  I shook my head hard, blowing air through my nose 'bhhrr' frustration spilling out in the only way I could.

  “Honestly…” he muttered. “I’ll tell His Highness later about this.”

  Then he looked at me again, eyes calmer this time. “Fine. I won’t use a name.”

  That was acceptable.

  Barely.

  He gestured forward.

  A single lane stretched ahead of us.

  Not flat ground, this was a track.

  Low hurdles.

  Raised bars.

  Uneven patches meant to test balance before speed.

  A jumping course.

  My chest tightened.

  "You’re serious?"

  I had only just learned to walk.

  I had one front leg missing.

  Even standing took effort that burned through my joints.

  Inside, my thoughts spilled freely.

  "At least let me run first. Let me get used to moving like this. I’m already struggling just to stay upright—"

  The trainer nodded to himself, clearly pleased. “You’re a strange horse,” he said. “Smart.”

  He loosened the lead slightly.

  “Now,” he continued, pointing down the track, “I’m putting you here. I want to see how sharp the prince’s horse really is.”

  I snorted, low and annoyed, but something else stirred beneath it.

  Challenge.

  “…Fine,” I thought.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll make him proud.”

  The trainer stepped aside.

  The track waited.

  Low hurdles cast short shadows across the grass. '

  Not high enough to be cruel but high enough to ask a question.

  "Could I move forward? Could I lift myself?"

  Behind me, the stable stood silent.

  Ahead, the first obstacle waited patiently.

  And as I shifted my weight and took my first step onto the track, one thing became clear—

  From today on, I was no longer learning how to stand.

  I was learning how to move forward, even if the ground itself tried to stop me.