CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
A Gift ReclaimedA retired mare stood with her head over the fence and her eyes jerked open at Hana’s approach. She blinked and opened her mouth in a wide yawn to display a long tongue and worn, yellow teeth. “Sorry, did I wake you?” Hana reached out a hand and stroked the white blaze which defined the high forehead. The bay head nodded and the eyes closed again. “Sacha!” Hana called and gave a low whistle, searching for the white mare’s rounded rump in the group which grazed near the stable’s back wall. Stamping hooves disturbed settling flies and the equine bodies milled around a pile of hay like garments sloshing in a washing machine. Hana climbed onto the bottom rung of the fence and searched for her horse, dread filling her heart when she didn’t see her.
The snooz
