“All right.” I raise my voice. “You won’t see much difference in Catcher until I leap from her back. I’m going to ride along that upper ridge there. Keep your eyes on the screen once I’m in the air. And say a little prayer for me that this actually works.”

I can tell Farian’s eyes are wide behind the camera. He’s adjusting his lens and prepping the tripod for a perfect shot of the ridge off to our right. I wait for his signal before turning Catcher around and making sure my face is visible before our first gallop. A normal horse might need the warmup, but phoenix horses run hot, always ready for that first sprint.

“Get, get! Let’s ride, girl!”

I dig in my heels, and she shoots forward. She opens up quick, trying to take control from me, so I rein her in and make sure she knows that where I’m heading is where she’s heading. Both of us taste the wind for a few seconds, galloping in a dead straight line away from Farian. When she’s got the swing of me, I loop us back around. Martial’s property has a handful of little ridges and hollows. Good spots for practicing elevation changes or learning how to bail. The ridge I’m aimed at isn’t much higher than Catcher, but it’s high enough for what I’m planning.

Farian has us locked in his sights as we nose toward the first rise. I start to stand up in the saddle, freeing my feet from the stirrups and tightening my grip. Catcher’s a little unnerved by the change, but the ridge is smack up against a second rise, so there’s nowhere for her to scare to. She holds the path I’ve chosen as I push onto my knees, then onto my feet. I crouch on her back like a statue, waiting for the right moment. When we reach the crest, Catcher’s in full frame for Farian.

Fear slips away. I become something more.

I release the reins and leap to my left.

There’s nothing but air and ground. The sudden drop steals my breath. I can feel my stomach twisting as I turn in the air, widening my stance, falling to the ground below. The earth rushes up to devour me. Only it doesn’t, because Catcher appears beneath me.

From ridge to ground level in an impossible blink. I land hard against her back, nearly slip off the saddle, and scramble for the reins. She snorts with delight when I manage to hang on. Farian’s already got one fist raised in triumph. I’m lost in the glory of it, that the rebirth actually worked, as I yank her to a stop right in front of him, grinning my wildness down at the camera.

“Trust Fall,” I say breathlessly. “That one’s called Trust Fall.”

Chapter 2: The Longhand