Green Desert - 3.4.3 - Bhanar

They could still be in the house somewhere, hiding in a closet or the attic or something. And they could have a gun. Zhíno had brought two. The beautiful policewoman––Séara, Vata had called her––now had one of those, but the other? Vata trembled. A tear ran down her creased cheek. Her hands clenched and twisted her skirt. She was either a good actress or she truly worried about Pí‘oro. Maybe they had kidnapped him, taken him as a hostage. Sure he wanted to rescue Zhíno from the cops, but the cops wouldn’t know that.

“Go!” cried Vata.

I scowled at her, but hopped onto the windowsill, crouched there for a second. A yard full of animals, ready for the slaughter. I spotted Sıpa‘ı talking to a smaller dog. I leapt down to the ground. The dirt squished around my bare feet.

Trails. Where were the trails? Outside the fence, of course. I ran to the back of the yard, pigs squealing and horses neighing. Horses. I could cover a lot more ground with a horse.

A pair of stables, little weathered-wood shacks, open on the front except for short doors. Two red horses with white stripes on their noses stared at me from the shadows. I stepped over to them, held out my hand for one to nuzzle. He licked it, wet and bumpy. “Okay, old boy. Let’s go for a ride.” I found the latch, opened the half-high door, entered the stable, ran my hand down his soft neck. He whinnied but didn’t ease away from me. I stepped onto a stool, both hands on his back.