He spotted a field of horses outside the porthole, hidden amidst the snow-capped peaks below.  His discovery — was he peeking into something that should stay hidden? So many horses on land for them alone? — felt suspicious.  He stood on his seat to check the reaction of others on the plane and saw not even a ripple of interest.  His mother next to him had her eyes shut, and stewardesses were collecting cups and bottles; all seemed normal.  Out the porthole, there the horses still were, little specks, so little now that they could be anything.  He took a quick look at his sleeping mother.  Back out, even the mountains looked small enough now to actually be waves upon an ocean.  It sparked a need in him to tell his mother that his eyes kept losing what they were seeing — just as her arm reached over and lowered the window shade shut.  He turned back to her and her eyes were still closed, and he saw her parked outside his school, resting at idle, waiting on him.