Soon the path led into a gloomy tunnel between the old, dark trees. The entrance to this tunnel lay in darkness like an open gaping mouth. The path itself was the only white in this darkened pale green glimmer. Abraxas' steps became more and more reluctant, but the witch drove him forwards into the dimness. And as much he didn’t like this much too old forest he knew he had to follow her bidding.
The myth of witches turning men into animals is at least as old as the tale of Odysseus' journeys, if not older. We discovered Abraxas in the late summer of 2011 when we bought mask and tack from the Fury-Fantasy Workshop. It had always been the dream of my beloved wife Arressia to handle a human pony. Later, while telling each others stories on our long roadtrips, we learned that Abraxas is actually a Hexen-Horse and Arressia is the one to call him out of me. Our life is rich and full of fantasy.