Now where did Rico and Rosa go? She continues past the long line of closed stall doors toward the arched doors at the far end of the long, dusty corridor. Overhead, bare bulbs on the ancient ceiling are thick with abandoned spider webs. Their weak beams of light only exaggerate the shadows. The stable area smells of hay, horse manure, and oiled leather. There is something reassuring about such natural scents and the sound of contented horses in their stalls.
A soft whinny distracts her. She pauses to peek through the slats of the nearest closed stall door. A sturdy chestnut horse, with a coffee-colored mane and milk-tinged ears, playfully nudges his velvet nose against the slat.
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