In a sacred assembly, the sages gathered with reverence and humility, seeking the blessings of Mitra, Varuṇa, Aryaman, Indra, the Ribhukṣins, and the Maruts. They prayed that these great deities find no fault as they proclaimed the heroic deeds of the race-born steed—a horse born for sacrifice, whose story was woven into the very fabric of the cosmos. With solemn care, the priests led forth the chosen gift, the horse, from the enclosure, adorned with a covering cloth. This steed, guided by wisdom and shaped in all forms, was beloved of Indra and Pūṣan, and was set upon the sacred path toward the gods. In front of the swift horse, they led a goat, the portion of Pūṣan, as an offering for all the gods—just as the sacred cake is offered to the swift one. Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine artisan, urged the goat forward for Sauśravas, ensuring that every detail of the ritual was perfect. At the appointed time, the priests led the sacrificial horse three times around the sacred fire, dedicating it to the gods. The goat, Pūṣan’s first portion, went ahead, announcing the sacrifice to the divine assembly. The Hotṛ, the Adhvaryu, the fire-kindler, the stone-holder, and the wise singer of praises—all took their places, performing their duties with skill and devotion, filling their abodes with the fruits of this well-ordered, well-offered sacrifice. Those who prepared the sacrificial posts, those who carried and fashioned them, and those who gathered the cooking for the swift horse—all were honored, and their praises were invoked. The inspired thoughts of the priests were offered before the gods, as the wise rejoiced in the ritual. The horse, dear companion of the gods, was made a source of nourishment for them. Every detail was attended to: the halter, the binding rope, the head-rope, the rein, and even the grass placed in the horse’s mouth—all were offered up to the gods. Whatever part of the horse’s flesh was touched by flies, cut by knife or axe, or remained on the hands or under the nails of the carvers—these too were dedicated to the gods. The skilled carvers prepared and cooked the offerings, ensuring that nothing impure remained, and that the well-boiled portions were ready for the gods. Care was taken that nothing from the horse’s body, once cooked, fell upon the earth or grass; all drippings were gathered for the gods and the worthy. Those who looked upon the cooked steed, who called for its fragrant presence, or who sought a share of its flesh—all were included in the prayers, their praises ascending with the smoke. The vessels, the strainers, the covers, the hooks, and the butchers—every implement and person involved was sanctified, their work encircling the horse in holiness. Even the horse’s every movement—its stepping, sitting, turning, and the work of its four feet—along with all it drank, ate, and consumed, were offered to the gods. The fire, smoky-scented and roaring, was invoked not to harm the horse, nor the shining blade to strike it. The prepared and purified offering, marked with the vaṣaṭ-call, was received by the gods as the horse itself. The steed was adorned with coverings, garments, and gold, and sent forth, swift-footed and beloved, to the gods. Any force that had struck the horse—by spur or whip—was ritually released, just as the ladle touches the offering in sacrifice. Thirty-four ribs, the divine bonds of the horse, were carefully approached; the limbs were kept unbroken, the joints loosened with skill, and the cuts rendered clean. Tvaṣṭṛ, the divine carver, made the first cut; two guides and the season itself joined in the ritual. The portions of the horse were prepared according to the season and offered into the fire. The heat of the fire was invoked not to burn the horse, nor the blade to rest heavily upon it. The cutters were cautioned to be neither greedy nor careless, that no limb be broken or struck together. The priests declared that the horse did not die, nor was it harmed; instead, it journeyed along good paths to the gods. Bay mares and spotted horses were yoked for it, and the steed stood ready at the yoke of the ass. The sacrifice was not only for the gods but for the well-being of the people: may the steed bring good cattle, good horses, sons, and all-nourishing wealth. May Aditi grant innocence, and may the horse, bearing offerings, win sovereignty for the sacrificers. The sages recalled the horse’s cosmic origins. When the first cry of birth arose from the sea or the waters, the wings of the eagle and the arms of the deer were present—such was the greatness of the steed. It was given by Yama, strengthened by Trita; Indra was the first to mount it. The Gandharva held its reins, the Sun fashioned it, and the Vasus released it into the world. The steed was Yama and Āditya, united with Soma by secret vow, with three bonds in heaven. Three bonds in heaven, three in the waters, and three in the ocean—Varuṇa was invoked to grant favor, for in such places was the steed’s highest origin. The horse had nine cleansings, marks of its hooves, and places of strength. Its reins were guarded by the immortals. The sages, with their minds, approached the essence of the horse, seeing it as a bird flying by day, its head moving on good paths, raising dust like a winged one. In its highest form, the horse sought nourishment at the cow’s foot; mortals, following its enjoyment, sought it among the herbs. The chariot, the young man, the cows, the lord of the maidens—all followed the horse. The hosts of beings followed its friendship, and the gods measured its strength. Golden-horned and swift-footed, with mind-moving feet, Indra stood below as the gods, desiring the offering, mounted the horse, which was the first to be harnessed. The divine steeds were swift, slender-waisted, strong, and heroic—like swans in a line, they strove together when the divine horses set out. The horse’s body was eager to fly, its mind swift as the wind; its horns spread wide, wandering vigorously through the forests. The noble horse approached the feeding place, shining with divine radiance in thought; the goat led in front as its navel, while the wise followed behind, singing. The horse approached the highest seat, returning to its father and mother; on this day, the path was most pleasing to the gods, and rewards were commanded for the worshipper. The sages then reflected on the deeper mysteries: of the beautiful, grey-haired Hotar, there was a middle brother who ate, and a third, ghee-backed. They saw the lord of the clan with seven sons. Seven harnessed the chariot with one wheel, drawn by a horse called by seven names; the wheel had three hubs, ever unaging and unbroken, upon which all worlds rest. Upon this chariot stood seven; seven wheels and seven horses carried it, joined by seven sisters, where the seven names of cows were placed. Who, they wondered, saw the first being born—the boneless one who bears bones? Where is the soul of the earth, the maker of gods? Who, knowing, has approached to ask this? With minds full of inquiry, the sages asked where the footprints of the gods are placed. On the calf, on the bull, the wise spun seven threads, weaving the fabric of creation itself. Thus, through the sacrifice of the horse, the sages wove together the cosmic and the earthly, the manifest and the mysterious, offering all to the gods in hope, humility, and awe.