She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on her work and her evenings with Tempest, but she could feel a storm quietly building around her—one that Nathaniel and Bridget seemed determined to unleash before it could be stopped.
The storm broke one stormy evening when a panicked shout tore through the estate: Tempest had escaped his stall and bolted toward the road leading away from the property, spooked by something no one could immediately explain. Servants scattered in confusion, and old Garrick shouted for someone to fetch help, fearing the stallion would injure himself or a passing traveler in the darkness.
Elsie did not wait for instructions. She ran straight toward the stables, her heart hammering, and quickly discovered the latch on Tempest's stall had been deliberately loosened, not broken by accident. There was no time to investigate further: she grabbed a length of rope and sprinted out into the darkening fields after the frightened horse, ignoring the shouts behind her urging her to stop.
She found Tempest near the edge of a steep ravine, his hooves dangerously close to the crumbling edge, his eyes wide with fear as thunder rumbled overhead. One wrong step could send him tumbling into the darkness below.
Elsie slowed her approach, speaking softly despite her own racing pulse, calling his name gently until his panicked eyes found her familiar face. "Easy now," she whispered, extending her hand. "I am here. You are safe."