She wakes.

It smells like.... dust.. and... dung...... ewww..

She scrunches her nose up, turning her head as though to avoid the troubling scent. A rustling sound comes from beneath her as she shifts her weight. When she blinks her eyes open, the sight of golden dust motes swirling through the air greets her. They dance lazily to an orchestra no mortal can hear. The sight mesmerizes her.

Beyond the dust motes, a dirt-coated wooden wall pays homage to the dirty ground and dusty surroundings

Eww. This place is dirty.

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The girl pushes herself up with her arms, looking around herself. She’d been lying on a thick, itchy mat of straw, its golden fibers giving way to the golden dust motes. Late afternoon light falls upon her from above and distant bird song reaches her ears. Looking before her, the girl locks eyes with a chestnut mare. The mare glares balefully at her from across the aisle. Piles of droppings litter the horse’s stall. Perchance she blames the girl for the unkempt state of her lodgings.

She pushes herself unsteadily to her feet, clumsy and wobbly, not unlike a newborn foal. Taking a few steps forward, the girl stumbles and catches herself on a half wall. Looking back, she blinks as she realizes she’d been sleeping in a horse’s stall..

Eww.

Across the aisle, the girl can see that the mare has plenty of company. At least a half dozen other horses trundle and snuffle about in their own stalls.

Who owns all these horses? Whose barn is this?

She frowns.

Where am I?