He watches me like he wants to stop me but values his life too much to try.
I move slowly past the stalls. Most of the horses are beautiful in the expected way. Glossy coats. Calm eyes. Expensive bodies. They glance at me, uninterested, then return to eating.
Then I reach the last stall.
The horse inside lifts his head. He is huge. Black, except for a jagged white mark running down the front of his face. His mane is thick and slightly tangled, and one ear flicks back immediately, as if he has already decided he dislikes me.
I stop.
The horse stares at me. I stare back.
“This is him, isn’t it?” I ask.
The stableman appears beside me, careful to keep a respectful distance. “If you mean the devil with hooves, yes.”
I almost laugh. “The one who bites people?”
“And kicks. And breaks fences. And hates music, dogs, umbrellas, loud men, quiet men, and anyone wearing red.”
“What’s his name?”
“Buran.”
Storm.
Of course.
Buran snorts, stamping one hoof against the straw.
“He sounds charming,” I say.
The stableman gives me a look. “He’s not.”
I step a little closer to the door.
The stableman stiffens. “Madam, I would not.”
“I’m not going in.”
“Good.”
Buran lowers his head slightly, dark eyes fixed on me. There’s something almost rude in his attention. Like he’s judging me and finding me lacking.
I understand him immediately. “You’re the ugly horse,” I tell him.
The stableman makes a strangled sound. “Madam.”
But Buran only flicks one ear.
“I was told you were terrible,” I continue.
The horse exhales hard through his nose.
I fold my arms. “Yes, I know the feeling.”
Here is a creature no one has polished into obedience. No one has taught him to smile, lower his eyes, accept the bit, and be grateful for shelter. He’s difficult, dangerous, inconvenient. The exact opposite of me.
I stand there longer than I mean to, watching the horse watch me.
