A hawk circles overhead, startling Maria when it swoops low to the ground. Mollie yelps. I veer to the right and grab her reins, giving them a tug. At the same time, Mollie’s hand darts out and grabs on to my forearm. “Whoa, girl. Easy. Easy,” I say. “Trust me, I’d rather die than touch you—” “I was talking to the horse.” My lips twitch. Maria slows her roll. “Oh.” Mollie’s still holding my arm in a death grip. “Sorry. But I actually don’t want to die, so…” “You’re not gonna die. Not on my watch.”
Oopp!!
