Nightwind
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 5: The Fall
The afternoon sun burned white across the desert, casting long, sharp shadows over the canyon. Calista shaded her eyes, scanning the horizon. From where she and Nightwind stood, the land dropped away into a maze of dry gullies and steep, sandstone slopes.
They had ridden farther than she ever intended — miles from the ranch, maybe ten or more. The air was still and heavy with heat, and even Nightwind’s breath came slow and deep.
“Let’s head back soon,” Calista said softly, patting his neck. “You’ve proven yourself, old boy. I couldn’t ask for more.”
Nightwind flicked his ears, turning his head slightly. His dark eyes met hers, and for a heartbeat, she could’ve sworn there was something knowing in them — something too sharp, too human.
He snorted and shifted his weight, restless.
“All right,” she murmured, “easy now. Let’s find the ridge trail—”
But before she could finish, Nightwind suddenly tensed. His body coiled like a spring, and in the next instant he lunged forward — not in panic, but in a controlled, deliberate surge.
“Nightwind! Whoa!”
He didn’t bolt straight ahead. Instead, he veered sharply to the left, toward the edge of the slope. Calista pulled hard on the reins, her heart hammering. She could feel him resisting — strong, determined, his muscles bunching beneath her.
The ground gave way.
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