Hooves and Heartbreak. The Pony Chronicles, #2

The gravel crunched under Melanie's boots before the sun had thought about rising. She knew the sound well by now, the particular grind of loose stone against worn rubber, and she knew the way the barn lights looked from the bottom of the drive, a smear of yellow against the dark that hadn't yet decided to be morning. The air smelled of hay and cold dirt and something sharper underneath, the ammonia from the stalls she hadn't cleaned yet.
She pulled her jacket tighter at the collar and kept walking.