As the long and grueling race wore on beneath the sweltering afternoon sun, Johnny made a calculated decision to ease off the pace. He gently pulled back on the reins, guiding his horse, Slow Dancer, into a slow, measured walk. They had just entered a wide, open stretch of land—a sunlit expanse of golden grass that rolled gently toward the distant hills. The ground was firm but forgiving, the kind of terrain that invited a moment of quiet rather than a push for speed.

Slow Dancer's flanks rose and fell with each deep, labored breath. His silver coat glistened with sweat, and his ears flicked back and forth, catching every subtle sound of the plains. Johnny leaned forward slightly, giving the horse a reassuring pat on the neck, telling his horse to take it easy.

The only sounds were the soft clopping of hooves and the rustle of wind through the tall grass—until a new rhythm cut through the quiet. Behind them, the unmistakable cadence of hooves striking the earth at a full gallop echoed across the field. Johnny instinctively straightened in his saddle and glanced over his shoulder. There, rising like a mirage from the distant edge of the expanse, was a rider—you—closing the distance fast. Dust kicked up behind your horse’s hooves as you approached with the ease and confidence of someone who had been born in the saddle. Johnny recognized your silhouette instantly, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Slow Dancer perked up at the sight of your arrival. The horse let out a sharp, welcoming neigh, ears twitching forward, clearly recognizing you as a familiar presence. It was less a sound of warning and more like a greeting between old friends. Johnny chuckled softly under his breath.

"Slow Dancer seems to enjoy your company..."