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And there’s no one else around.

I glance at the clock. It’s nearly five, which means the horses may be getting a third feed, or perhaps they’re being brought in from the paddocks. I walk out of the front door of the bunkhouse and follow the noise. . .to a large, open-air gathering area with picnic tables. The grooms and riders are all eating together, laughing and talking.

Viktor stands. “Ah, you look different.” He beams. “You clean up quite well.”

“Uh, thanks,” I say. “Where’s Quicksilver?”

“Sit.” He sits himself and gestures.

I shake my head. “Pyotr brought me food, which was excellent, and I ate far more than I should have. I’d really like to check on the stallion.”

Viktor nods. “He’s on the far end.” He points. “You can’t really miss it. Head down the middle lane, and it’s the last paddock on the right.”

So he is in a paddock, in spite of escaping before. That’s pretty generous of them.

“The devil himself couldn’t get out of that paddock now.” Viktor’s dismissed me, and now he’s laughing at something a very large, very red-faced man’s saying.

It could be way worse. Most of my life, my main goal has been to avoid attention. Telling them I can’t speak Russian seems to have been an excellent call. Way better than trying to parse through what everyone’s saying with my broken Russian. This way, they mostly leave me alone.

He wasn’t kidding when he said it was all the way down the lane. But finally, maybe a third or a half mile down the way, I see it. It’s the Fort Knox of pastures, like they think all of America’s gold stores are inside. There’s a six-foot fence, with an electric wire floating above it all the way around. When Quicksilver sees me, he trots over, head held high.

He’s an absolutely stunning animal.

I’ve never really liked greys much. They always seem to roll in poop. And if not poop, then mud. Their eyes are often not very pretty at all, but none of that’s true with him. He’s almost snowy everywhere but his muzzle, his legs, and his mane and tail. And those are a consistent dark grey that’s breathtaking.

But his eyes are truly amazing.

They’re intelligent, engaged, and a gorgeous shade of blue I’ve almost never seen on a horse. “Wow,” I say. “You’re a real looker.”

He whinnies.

“But sheesh,” I say. “Who do they think you are with this insane fence? Houdini?”

He’s a horse, though, so he just stares at me.

Plus, he did break out, so. . . “Well, I think we both get the rest of today off, but starting tomorrow morning, we’ll have a full day. I know that normally, people wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to break a new horse, but you’re clearly not a baby, and I can’t stick around here for very long. So let’s make some great progress, show them what we can do, and then I’ll get paid. As soon as that’s done, I can let you go in the middle of the night, and we’ll both be on our merry way. Sound like a deal?”

He snorts.

I’m actually a little bit excited.

You know, when I’m not peering around every corner in paranoia. Viktor makes me walk Quicksilver to his stall, which is miraculously simple, and shortly after that, Viktor stops by my room.

“I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” He raises one eyebrow.

“I have some questions.”

“I thought you might.”

“How did Quicksilver get loose before?”

“He’s a wild catch,” Viktor says. “In Russia, any wild horses belong to whomever can catch them. About ten days ago, he simply showed up in that forest where we found you, blowing and winded. He was easy to catch. But the next day, instead of being calm, he became insane. He kept trying to get away. We had to sedate him.”

That’s not promising.

“So you have no idea how old he is?”

“His teeth look almost perfect. Our vet thinks five or six at most.”