It was a crazy day in Chatawhoogie. One no one had ever seen before. The winds were whistling, and the horses were stomping. Rearing their heads and flaring their nostrils. Like a stink in the night, without a whisper overhead. They made their beds and couldn’t sit. Little did they know, the rustling wasn’t the leaves. It grew louder until they heard a faint sound. Barely audible. Everyone stopped. The horses tilted their ears, swiveling back and forth. What was it? Where was it coming from? Nobody seemed to understand, yet everyone was silent. Listening. For only if they knew.