…and with a grace that seemed more than instinct, it wrapped its powerful neck around a thick root protruding from the cliffside. The mustang’s muscles tensed, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The other horses mirrored its posture, forming a line where the earth met sky, a natural barricade against the abyss.
Lena felt the rope go taut, not with the slip of gravity, but with a sudden, steadfast tension. Her situation had shifted from a precarious dance with death to a desperate hope tethered by nature’s most untamed creatures. She dared not breathe too deeply, aware of the delicate equilibrium at play.
The radio back at the station crackled with urgency. Dispatchers coordinated in hushed tones, and a helicopter was finally en route. But on the canyon rim, time moved differently, suspended between Lena’s heartbeat and the waiting world.
