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Fabulous.

I mean, people matter more than animals, right? I’m not sure I believe that. That’s probably why I devolve into a puddle of tears on the bank of the stream. I’m sobbing enough that even my sketch ride bumps the side of my arm with his nose.

“What?”

He does it again.

“I’ll stop crying in a minute, okay? If your life was as bad as mine, you’d figure out how to cry, too.” I laugh. “Or maybe you’d just get your leg stuck in a barbed wire fence, go sideways, deglove the skin off your leg, and cost me nine million dollars in vet fees. Is that why horses do that dumb stuff? Is that your solution to the fact that you can’t cry and you don’t have control over your own life?”

I inhale slowly, and then I finally manage to stop the bawling.

“What’s wrong?” a voice asks from a few trees away.

I jump to my feet, and my idiot horse pulls so hard he escapes, trotting at least two dozen yards away, his nostrils puffing.

“Who’s there?” I look around, but I don’t see anyone.

“It’s me,” the man’s voice says again.

“Two words aren’t helpful,” I say. “Not unless they’re your name.”

“Grab your horse first,” he says.

I swear under my breath, but he’s right. My red roan’s moving farther and farther away. I walk toward him, hands back behind me, a calm and friendly expression plastered on my face in case he’s an idiot who bolts.

He jolts and shifts a half dozen times, but eventually he lets me grab him. I’m not gentle as I walk him back. I have little patience for flighty idiots. “Alright. Just come out, then.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “The thing is—”

“Just come out,” I say. “For the love of Pete, what’s with the hiding?”

When Alexei steps out, I see why he was hiding. He’s buck naked.

I clap my hand over my eyes. “Hide again, hide! Geez.”

He’s chuckling when he ducks back behind the tree.

“What on earth are you doing out here naked?”

“I was out for a run,” he says, “in my horse form, but then I heard something. When I followed the sound, you were crying.”

He’s what made the red roan go crazy near the end. That makes a lot more sense. “So you’re a stalker, now.”

“Not at all. Just a concerned citizen. What do they call those—a Good Samaritan.”

“Did the Good Samaritan lie to Jesus before or after he gave him a ride and new clothes? I feel like they didn’t tell me that part in Sunday school.”

I can practically hear Alexei roll his eyes when he says, “Very funny. But listen, what’s so upsetting? Maybe I can help.”

“Oh, I was just crying about how my twin sister and her best friend lied to me so that they could manipulate me into doing what they wanted, since they don’t trust me to make good life choices myself.”

As I say that, it occurs to me that both of them are engaged, wealthy, and happy, whilst I’m crying by a stream because some new thug is threatening to rape me before killing me.

They might not be completely wrong to want to guide me.

But still.

“I lied to you, too.” Alexei’s head pops out around the side of the tree, and I can’t help ogling his upper body a little. “I’m sorry for that. Your twin sister, whom I assumed knew you better than anyone else, said you’d only stick around if you were needed.”