All Claire had to do was deliver two bottles of champagne to a guest cabin for a celebration, but that meant walking past the round pen, a temporary steel-railed corral, where the brown horse circled, stiff-necked, looking over the rails for an escape route.
Claire could not pass; the ever-present fear lurking in the shadows of her mind, coiled, rattled, struck. In her vision, the horse charged. Teeth barred, iron-shod hooves driven by all his weight splintered the rails into swords that pinned her to the ground in her own blood.
Someone played the piccolo obbligato to "Stars and Stripes Forever."
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