In moments of teenage angst, Valerie would go to the stable to be with her horse named Moon. Moon was the perfect listener often hearing the girl’s exhausting talks about the sad state of things. On this afternoon, the horse seemed determined not to listen, interrupting with snorts and neighs. Moon kept moving away from Valerie’s attempt to talk and finally settled near the saddles. So you want to ride, she thought. As they rode across the hills, Valerie’s teenage angst seemed a distant thought. For a moment she knew what Moon knew; sometimes you just have to move.