Rocinante rears back, nearly dislodging me from the saddle. My hand tangles in his mane, holding on for dear life. As soon as his front hooves pound against the ground, he’s off, streaking forward as fast as his powerful legs can carry him.

As it turns out, that is extremely fast.

I flatten myself against his body, my hair whipping around my face, the wind stinging my eyes. Distantly, I hear something that might be the sound of Ana shouting but we’re already too far for the sound to carry.

“Rocinante, slow down, you buffoon.”

For some reason, the horse does not listen to me.

He runs and runs and runs, trying to outpace the storm that’s about to break out.

I’d pull on the reins but it would do no good. He will slow when he’s good and ready. Fear is not logical, whether in humans or in horses. All I can do is my level best to guide him toward what I desperately hope is a viable shelter. There’s an outcropping of rocks in the distance, the kind you find low on mountains that usually has caves large enough to spend a night in.

If we can get there …

Pounding hooves—of a different cadence than Rocinante’s—come up behind me, strong and fast. I chance a look backward and find Ana and Tornado nearly caught up with us. Tornado’s top speed is nowhere near Rocinante’s, but Ana is pushing the horse with everything she’s got.

Tornado pulls up beside Rocinante, eyes wild. There is no higher thought there. The beast’s eyes are filled with pure terror.

“Kiki!” Ana’s scream is nearly whipped away by the wind, but I hear the panic in her voice. She can ride well enough, but not like this. She didn’t grow up in a saddle as I did. For ages, she was too terrified of the horses in our stable to get too close to them. It took months before she was willing to even brush one, much less ride.

If she falls at this speed, on this unforgiving earth, if Tornado trips and breaks a leg, they could both die.

Squeezing my knees against Rocinante’s sides, I guide him as close to Tornado as we can get. Their hooves pound against the dirt and stone, louder even than the storm on our tails. Ana’s boot bumps into mine and she nearly startles right out of the saddle.

“Hold on!”

Red hair whips across her face. “I’m trying!”

I pull Rocinante level with Tornado’s head. Tornado’s eye rolls wildly in its socket as a flash of lightning cracks open the sky. He tosses his head, fearful beyond all logic.