The tall grass whipped against George’s legs, each step more difficult than the last as he pushed forward. His breath came in ragged bursts, the chilly night air biting at his lungs. In the distance, he could still hear the sound of Thunder’s hooves thundering through the field, the stallion’s form a dark blur against the moonlit landscape.
George cursed under his breath, his eyes straining to keep track of the shapes darting ahead of him. At his age, chasing an animal—let alone two—through the fields wasn’t just difficult; it was dangerous.