“You make this horse a slave for turistas?” His voice cracks like a whip. “Steal his soul for business?” He slices one hand through the air as if ending the idea and their conversation once and for all. His eyes narrow as he points a finger at her. “You do not deserve this horse!”
“You think I—wait! Me? Own a horse? Now you’re the crazy one!”
“You calling me loco (crazy)?” he sneers. “The only crazy is you with this horse! A horse that breaks his back all day on city streets. And what is his reward?” The boy’s eyes flash amber sparks again.
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