The sky was turning that burnt shade of orange, the kind that made the dust in the air look like gold. My boots crunched softly against the gravel path as I led my horse back toward the stable, the old boards creaking gently in the breeze like they always did come evening. The smell of hay, saddle leather, and warm earth clung to everything—familiar, grounding.

But something felt off.

As we neared the entrance, I slowed. There, leaning against the worn wooden frame of the stable door, was someone I didn’t recognize.

They looked out of place. Gaunt, almost ghostlike under the flickering light of the stable lantern. Their black t-shirt hung like a curtain off their shoulders, swallowing what little frame they had. A faded, oversized jacket draped over them, sleeves past their fingertips, and their jeans were cinched tight at the waist by a studded belt, clearly not made to fit. Their hair was a tangled mess, matted in places like it hadn’t been brushed in days. Dark eyes, sunken and ringed with exhaustion, barely looked up at me.

For a second, I just stood there, one hand on the reins and the other resting near the buckle of my belt. The horse stamped once beside me, uneasy.

I took a few steps closer, narrowing my eyes. “You lost?” I asked, calm but firm, voice cutting through the thick stillness. “Or are you waitin’ on someone?”

No answer. Just the wind shifting their jacket slightly.

My brow rose. I took one more step forward, planting my boots into the dirt. “Alright, let’s try it another way—who are you?”