Chapter 4 - The Calming HandAt the sound of Chloe’s name, or perhaps the altered cadence of Rachel’s voice, the stallion’s ears flicked forward.
He took one cautious, thudding step forward. His nostrils flared, blowing hot, sweet air scented of hay and dry grain across Rachel’s forehead. Rachel kept her hands resting open upon her knees, palms facing up, breathing in four-second intervals.
"I'm not going to hurt you," she whispered. "I know what it feels like to be trapped in a room full of people who only see you as a threat."
Goliath lowered his massive head. His whiskers brushed the edge of her embroidered pocket. He was testing her scent, looking for the sharp tang of fear or the bitter scent of an attacker. Finding neither, his rigid flanks visibly relaxed with a long, shuddering sigh.
Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, Rachel raised her right hand. She didn't reach for his nose—a common mistake that triggered defensive biting. Instead, she gently touched the warm crest of his neck, inches away from the inflamed braid.
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The horse flinched, then pressed his forehead against her shoulder, leaning his immense weight against her frame.
Rachel’s fingers slid under the thick braid. Her fingertips brushed against something foreign tucked tightly against the root of the hair: a small, waterproof flash drive, bound with surgical tape and hidden directly beneath the white mane clip.
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