'So quiet I can hear the sound of the hawks feathers flying overhead to watch as we intrude upon his hunting ground atop this plataue. The bit of snow is crisp, and cracks with little effort under Montana's feet as he steps cautiously to find his way through the sagebrush. While the sky is a bit clouded, the sun peeks through enough to feel warm - moments like this live within all of us whom have had the greatest honor to ride unbound in magical places. elizabeth sage

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