Their stories aren’t just about progress. They’re about trust: the kind you earn slowly, with patience, good timing, and a willingness to listen when a horse says “not yet.”

Start here

Quick introductions

Floki: wild-hearted, thoughtful, and surprisingly talkative once he trusts.
Lagertha: queenly, brilliant, and always keeping tabs on her boy.

Who they are

Floki is the epitome of a wild boy: curious, watchful, and slow to hand over trust. He’s the kind of horse who notices everything—the shift of a jacket, a new sound in the wind, the way your energy changes when you’ve had a long day. When he isn’t sure, he keeps his opinions to himself and holds his distance like it’s a boundary carved in stone.

But when Floki decides you’re safe, the whole world changes. He becomes talkative—literally. His nickers are expansive and varied, as if he’s trying to talk in the way humans do. He’s also expressive in the small ways mustangs are, with looks, tiny gestures, and a personality that feels bigger than his body. He’s lovable in that earned, hard-won way: not because he’s easy, but because he chooses connection on purpose. Every new “first” with him matters, because nothing is automatic. With Floki, trust is never assumed. It’s built.

Floki was gathered from McGavin’s Peak, where overpopulation was causing overgrazing, and thus the risk of starvation for all the wild horses. In spite the responsibilities of being a wild-born captive, he’s eternally grateful for a regular feeding schedule, and unlimited hay.

Lagertha is regal—queenly in the way she carries herself, even when she’s doing something as ordinary as eating hay. She’s smart, steady, and difficult to fool. Where Floki processes the world in careful steps, Lagertha reads a situation in a glance and seems to decide what the rules are before anyone else has finished thinking.

Lagertha is from the highly sought after Devil’s Garden, where the horses are famous for their intelligence, stocky builds, and bay and roan coloration. Lagertha is the most intelligent horse I’ve ever known, and I’ve known a lot of horses. Where Floki tries to communicate with nickers, she communicates with looks.

And she is always aware of Floki. If I ask where he is, she’ll tell me—sometimes with a look, sometimes with a shift of her ears or attention, as if she’s pointing without pointing. She keeps track of her herd, and she keeps track of the room. That intelligence isn’t just “trainability”—it’s presence. Lagertha doesn’t just exist in a moment; she understands it.

Together, they’re different kinds of strength: one wild and cautious, learning to trust in honest increments; one watchful and assured, a guardian with opinions and a mind that’s always working. This page is where we keep their stories—who they are, how they’re changing, and what they teach us as we build a life measured in miles.

What you’ll find on this page

• their origin stories and how they came to us
• training milestones and “firsts”
• updates from the trail as we prepare for (and ride) the Long Ride
• the small moments that matter as much as the big ones

Follow their story in real time

Trail Journal

Want the big picture?

Long Ride Overview
Wild Horse HMA Guides
Trail Breaks

Why mustangs

Mustangs are often misunderstood. They’re not “hard” because they’re bad—they’re careful because they had to be. When a mustang offers trust, it’s never an accident. It’s earned.

Fading Hoofbeats is built around that idea: slow is not failure. Slow is foundation.

I have wanted mustangs almost all my life. Sitting in reading class in first grade, hating on Dick and Jane (I had already read Black Beauty and Call of the Wild, and was well into The Black Stallion), I was staring out the window, dreaming of horses. A red and white pinto filly galloped by outside the window. She was alone, but so beautiful and free, and I wanted to be her. Having no sense of place, I yelled, “A horse!” It’s a wonder the teacher didn’t smack me with her ruler. A kid two seats over said, that’s a wild horse. From that moment I wanted a mustang. Now I have two.

A note on respect

These horses came from public lands. Their wildness is not a “before” photo—it’s part of what we’re protecting. That’s why we focus on calm handling, ethical choices, and a kind of storytelling that doesn’t demand performance.

I respect my mustangs as much as if they were people. They deserve it. They need love and respect as much as people and other animals do. (Apologies to those who feel that’s anthropomorphizing.) That’s my opinion, and I’m sticking to it. ❤️