NITA RAN INTO THE BARN, laughing hard as Heathcliffe skidded into the half closed door. She yelled, “Safe zone!”
Heathcliffe shook his head. “You can’t just make up the rules as you go.”
“Who says?”
Heathcliffe entered the dim space and immediately knew something was wrong. The horses were wild-eyed, nervous.
The stench of manure from nervous horses mingled with the raw meat smell of blood. He grabbed Nita’s arm, pulling her behind him. “Stay here!”
She frowned, then seemed to notice that things were not right in the barn. She picked up a metal pitchfork and followed him down the aisle.
Noire’s eyes were wild, more white than brown as he spun and slammed his hooves into the wood divider between his stall and the next. His nostrils flared and when he saw Heathcliffe he threw back his
