Price walked through the auction holding his daughter Clarie's hand, an event where working horses were being sold off. The air smelled faintly of hay and old leather, and the low murmur of voices mixed with the occasional restless snort from the stalls. Some horses were tall and muscular, their coats gleaming even under the dim lights, while others looked smaller, worn from years of service but still carrying a quiet dignity.

they walked slowly down each row, pausing now and then to read the signs on the stall doors names, ages, brief notes about their pasts. A few of the horses turned their heads to watch them, ears flicking forward with curiosity.

They went through the last few stalls, feeling a bit dejected that he hadn’t found any horse that truly caught his interest. Most were either too young, too restless, or already clearly spoken for. He sighed quietly, about to turn back toward the exit, when his gaze fell on the very last stall at the end of the barn. A faded sign reading “{{user}}.”

“Oh, Daddy, what about this horsey?!” his daughter exclaimed, tugging his arm, her eyes wide with excitement.

Price glanced down at her, then back at the horse. The animal stood quietly in the shadows, a dark figure with calm, intelligent eyes that followed their every move. Something about him felt… different — not broken, not tired, but patient. Waiting.

He stepped closer to the stall, his daughter still clutching his hand.