The Horse Healer Read Online Free PDF Page B

he was about to leave, with the aftertaste of the food still in his mouth, he turned back to her.
    â€œOne last question.” The woman looked at him displeased. “Was that a rabbit stew?”
    She smiled maliciously.
    â€œGood lord, no. … It was cat.” She drew her eyes together in a feline manner. “Tender, savory, homemade cat.” She laughed immoderately.
    Diego felt a jab of nausea. He pressed his knees into Sabba’s ribs and they trotted away from that hellhole. He felt so ill that before they’d even covered half a league, he was overcome by the need to stop and vomit. He did it three times in total.
    In the course of the next few hours, he wandered through the outskirts of the city, not knowing where to go. He felt a stirring in his entrails, almost a revolt, and every few minutes there came a sharp pain in his abdomen that hardly let him breathe.
    When night fell, he approached the riverbanks in the Huerta del Rey. Many of the refugees had gathered there.
    He chose a tree-lined bend, isolated from the meadow where hundreds of people had set fires and were sharing their misfortune.
    There he stretched out at the feet of an old holly oak and drank fresh water. Sabba found abundant grass nearby and set to feeding tranquilly.
    At midnight, Diego began to feel hot and to shake terribly. Worried and in pain, he crouched under the tree and his thoughts began to fly, like a fleeting mirage, to happier moments in his life.
    The following hours were passed between dreams and convulsions. Once in a while, he would wake up in distress and when he opened his eyes, he would notice they were hot and swollen. It took a long time, but at last he fell into a deep sleep.
    â€œHow bad he smells! How disgusting!”
    The shouts of children awakened him.
    When he opened his eyes, he saw the face of a woman and two children who could not keep quiet. It was already day. The sun heated up his face. He asked himself how long he had been sleeping.
    â€œWho are you? What’s happened to me?” An acid odor filled his nostrils in a gust. He touched his tunic and notices it was wet and sticky.
    â€œYou’ve been throwing up all night. You were lucky my children found you. You were very sick …” The woman brought over a sage tea to help him recover. “Drink this; it will help with the nausea. It tastes bad, but it will do your body good.”
    That concoction was as bitter as it was sickening, but it worked its powers and soon he began to feel better. He looked for Sabba, but he didn’t see her. He whistled twice to call her, but he heard nothing, neither footfalls nor a single neigh.
    â€œHas someone seen my horse?” A black thought clouded his gaze.
    The woman shook her head.
    One of the boys remembered something.
    â€œLast night we saw some men grappling with one; they dragged it away by force. It was cinnamon colored, with white spots on its head and breast. … It was a little before we found you.”
    Diego shivered with fear, because they had just described Sabba. She’d been stolen.
    Queasy, with burning lips, he sat up and turned his back to them.
    â€œI need to be alone, I beg you. …”
    The woman took her children and looked at him with pity just before she left. He shook uncontrollably and seemed wounded and fragile. She felt miserable for him.
    Hours later, he could be heard by many of the people camped out in the Huerta del Rey. A rending cry crossed the river and the treetops. It also pierced many of the people’s hearts.
    â€œSabba!”

V.
    T hey all wanted to be with the redheads.
    Blanca and Estela were huddled in one of the five tents their captors had raised to shelter themselves from the terrible storm. It was night, and it wouldn’t stop raining. They had been with those men for several days and they still didn’t know what would happen to them. Estela, the youngest, was sure that they’d only been captured to