The horse seemed to bend time and space as he ran, blurring the landscape and making Frank feel like he'd just drunk a gallon of whole milk without his lactose-intolerance medicine: "Seven hundred and fifty miles per hour. Eight hundred. Eight hundred and three. Fast. very Fast.
Rick RiordanI hoped I wasn't blushing. It was bad enough I had to depend on my mom to drive me to my battles.
Rick Riordan