THE RHYTHM OF THE PULSE

Some nights, a man has to trust a horse's instinct over his own certainty. Tonight demanded exactly that trade.

The stable sat at the edge of the compound, where the lanternlight thinned out and the night took over. Inside, the air was thick with hay, leather, iron, and warm animal breath — after the island's strange quiet, this place felt like it had weight to it.

Sals stood just inside the doorway a moment, letting his eyes adjust. At the far end, something large shifted in the dim glow.