Luna Brava snorted and tossed her head, shifting uneasily beneath Cami. The mare’s sharp instincts told her something wasn’t right. Cami slid from the saddle, her boots sinking into the damp earth as she approached the abandoned building.
The saddlebag swayed slightly in the wind, the worn leather darkened by moisture. Cami reached for it, her fingers trembling. It was Tomás’s, no doubt about it.
But where was he?
A sudden rustling in the underbrush made her whirl around. Luna Brava stamped a hoof, her ears flicking toward the sound. Cami’s heart pounded.
“Tomás?” she called, her voice barely above a whisper.
The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the distant echo of hooves. But they weren’t Luna’s. These hooves sounded lighter, faster—like a ghostly gallop in the night air.
Then, the door to the old stone building creaked open.
Luna Brava stepped forward, pressing her nose against Cami’s shoulder as if to say, Be careful. Taking a deep breath, Cami stepped inside.
The air was thick with dust and the scent of damp earth. The moonlight filtered through a shattered window, illuminating something on the floor—Tomás’s poncho, crumpled in the dirt.
Cami’s throat tightened. She knelt down, fingers brushing the fabric. It was still warm.
A faint noise drifted through the building. A breath. A whisper.
"Ayuda... ayuda me..."
Cami froze. That wasn’t the wind.
She grabbed her ntern from her saddlebag, lighting it with shaking hands. The dim glow cast flickering shadows across the walls, revealing something scrawled on the stone in faded red letters:
Cuidado con el caballo sin jinete.
(Beware the riderless horse.)
A chill ran through Cami.
Luna Brava suddenly whinnied sharply, stomping her hooves. Outside, the wind carried the sound of thunderous galloping hooves—hooves with no rider to guide them.
Cami spun toward the door, her heart hammering. She had come looking for Tomás.
But now, she wasn’t sure if she had found a rescue... or stepped into a legend far older than she could understand.
