"Don't worry." The figure of the rider in front of me was lost in the darkness. "The horses can see."
Shivering deeper into the sheepskin saddle, I tried to coax my horse (and my thoughts) away from the drop-off to our left. Invisible and yet unmistakable, it hung within a casual slip.
The night was profoundly, terrifically black. The number of Malbec blends I'd tasted at last night's wine-pairing asado gravely exceeded the number of hours I'd slept. I breathed in the weightless air and tasted...
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