His ears picked up the muffled, syncopated beat of the absent-minded stamping of the animals all around them. They were hidden from sight but not hearing. Justine arrived at one door and slid it open slowly with a whirring sound so that they stood face to face with a large, brown horse, which, upon seeing them, pulled its nose back toward its chest in an odd mixture of what appeared to be fierce determination and a balking sort of nervousness. It then punctuated the movement by flicking its black tail.
“This is my horse,” Justine explained. “His name is Babieca.” She began running the palms of her pale hands down from the forehead to the nose of the animal repeatedly to soothe him.
“What are the horses used for?” Rob asked, standing awkwardly a few feet back, holding back a sneeze and wi
