My winged muse, my war horse. My winged muse, my war horse. Dakota. She loved this feather. I brushed it along her nose, played with it in her hair. She didn’t want me to stop. She didn’t want me to leave. {originally published March 16, 2015} Share this: Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Like Loading... Related