The wind whips down the face of Shadow Butte, sharp as broken glass and laced with ash. You cling to the narrow ledge beneath your boots, one hand pressed against the stone wall to steady yourself. The climb has been brutal, steep, exposed, and lined with loose rock that seems to crumble if you so much as breathe too hard. The smoke is thinner up here, but the silence is thicker. There's no birdsong, no insects. Just the distant whispering groan of scorched pines swaying in the wind. You're almost ready to turn back when you spot movement above you. You squint against the glare of the smoke-filtered sun and catch sight of him. A Chestnut Frame Stallion standing frozen on a ledge barely wide enough for all 4 feet to fit on. He must’ve climbed too high, panicked, and now he’s trapped with nothing but air and stone on either side. You speak softly as you edge closer. The stallions ears twitch nervously, but he doesn’t bolt. When you finally reach him, you press your body to the wall and offer your hand. After a long moment, he leans toward you, and together you begin the slow descent back to safety.

The canyon deepens around you, the light dimming as the towering rock walls close in. The air is dry and thick with ash, but a faint breeze moves through the narrow pass, stirring the dust at your feet. You’ve followed the winding path this far, stepping around boulders and fallen limbs, until the canyon ends in a wide, flat clearing littered with scorched brush and bones of old trees. At first, you think it's empty but then you see a Black Stallion standing quietly beneath the shadow of an overhang, his coat dusted in gray ash that nearly hides his color. He watches you without moving, as if too tired to care, his ribs faintly showing beneath the soot. A low snort from the far side of the clearing makes him flick an ear, and you follow his gaze to another figure emerging from the smoke. This one is a Copper Bay Sabino Stallion, his sides striped with soot-darkened markings, limping slightly but holding his head high. The two stallions eye each other, but neither seems to want a challenge. Instead, they both turn to face you and you know they’re ready to leave this place behind.

~

The final stretch of Shadow Butte is brutal with steep switchbacks layered in loose rock, your boots slipping more than once on the exposed edge. But the smoke thins as you climb higher, and with each step, the sky opens wider above you. At the top, the world feels distant, hushed by the wind and the weight of what it’s endured and the air is cooler here. You don’t see them at first, not until you cross a ridge lined with the last of the unscathed pines and step into a small hollow hidden from the edge. There, standing close together, are two mustangs. A Pale Palomino Splash White Mare, her coat dulled by ash but still gold beneath the grime, lifts her head slowly when she sees you. Her flanks rise and fall with exhaustion. Beside her is a Silver Black Sabino Stallion, dark and elegant even in the ruin around him. His eyes meet yours, tired but bright, like he’s been waiting for someone to come. They wait as you step into their silent sanctuary, and when you reach out your hand, they both take a shaky step forward.