The other gods frequently got lonely. On several occasions they’d gone on pilgrimages to find some followers, but each time, unfortunate circumstances cut short their journeys. Again, being the god of inspiration gave him another edge, Pegasus mused, because his own thoughts were as lively as any company, mortal or divine. In fact, he often thanked his thoughts for their vivid and companionable nature. But now there would be a banquet perhaps, some cheer; excellent conversation and surcease from the eternal boredom of the other gods. No, boredom wasn’t the right word, Pegasus thought. The gods were never really bored. It was just that they didn’t feel wanted anymore. They’d been put out to pasture, so to speak. They really didn’t have any duties to perform.

He didn’t either, in the old accepted manner. But he had his robust animal nature, and someone or other was always asking for inspiration, even if they didn’t know where it came from. Actually, Pegasus mused as he trotted along, he was called upon in one way or another a good deal of the time, but people often forgot his animal characteristics, or worse, his playful ones. “Ah, well.” Pegasus neighed, and headed toward the visitors.

Oversoul Seven heard the hoofbeats first, and cupped his ear. While Pegasus was still in the distance, he neighed a welcome so as not to startle anyone. He reveled in the sound himself, for it was the quintessence of each and any and all horses neighing in greeting and triumph. He stomped up and down, the magnificent muscles luxuriating in each motion. He neighed again, aware of his fine form beneath the Olympian sky, while the full moon shone brightly on all the peaks and ledges.

“What on earth was that?” Lydia gasped.

“Why, it sounded like a gigantic horse, or a hundred horses,” Josef said, growing uneasy.

Pegasus came slowly and majestically out of the shadows. His godlike, animal-like natures merged so perfectly that even Oversoul Seven just stood there for a moment, staring. Barnyards of Earth’s past and present and future joined in Pegasus’ form, so that before Seven’s and Lydia’s and Josef’s eyes rose images of barns and meadows and wars and battlegrounds: There were horses bravely carrying men, forgetting their own terrors as swords flashed and cannons roared; horses hitched to plows tilling the earth; the odors of manure and grass and grain all intermingled. All of this was sensed in one way or another by Seven, Lydia, and Josef, until the animal part of Pegasus alone was godlike in proportions. But besides this, yet rising from it, Pegasus’ divine attributes became natural and physical—nature knowing itself as a horse, glorifying in power and speed and filled to the brim with creaturehood.