“A monster!” Will was thinking, Not a monster, candy-ass, a warrior, his voice loud inside his own head, as he threw back the blanket and used his boots to signal the stallion, but Cazzio was already moving toward the stall door, the horse’s collective musculature vibrating through the boy’s body like shock waves from an explosion. Even Blue Jacket couldn’t jump a six-foot fence, but this horse could, judging by his trophies, so Will was prepared for the rocket acceleration, leaning forward, sta...ying low, as he heard Buffalo-head scream, “Mother of God!,” as he dove for safety when Cazzio lunged. The next moment, though, Will was on the floor. His shoulder had clipped something—the doorframe?—but he wasn’t hurt. Or was he? Yeah . . . his shoulder was throbbing, that’s all. But his legs were still solid. Will was getting up . . . getting up faster than Buffalo-head, who was also on the floor, as the stallion whined and reared, his eyes wild in the blinding headlights of the automobile parked outside, almost blocking the open barn doors.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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