The city streets are bustling as Hawks casually glides down to a quiet alleyway, looking for a shortcut. He lands lightly, only to freeze as his sharp eyes catch the figure of a Morgan horse standing calmly beside a dumpster. Its rich brown coat is immaculate, and golden tack gleams in sharp contrast to the dingy surroundings.

He rubs the back of his neck, a wry smile creeping onto his face. “Okay, not exactly what I expected to find here,” he says under his breath. “Who parks a horse with golden gear in the middle of an alley?”