The wind danced through the golden grassnds of Argentina’s Pampas, carrying the scent of rain and earth. Cami tightened her grip on the reins of her mare, Luna Brava, a stunning Appaloosa mare with a sleek bck coat and a bnket of white-spotted markings across her back. The mare’s flowing fxen mane rippled like fire in the fading sunlight.

  "Luna, let’s go," Cami whispered.

  At her cue, the Pampalosa surged forward, her hooves barely touching the ground as she wove through the acacia tree like a shadow. They were searching for something—or someone.

  Two nights ago, her brother, Tomás, had gone missing. He had left the ranch before dawn, riding his young stallion, Sol Dorado, toward the far hills. He was supposed to be back by noon. By sunset, only Sol had returned, reins dragging and sides heaving, but without a single trace of Tomás.

  The older ranch hands had warned her, voices hushed.

  "Do not go beyond the old Estrel ranch, ni?a. That nd is cursed."

  "The spirits of the Pampas ride there at night."

  Cami didn’t believe in ghosts. But she did believe in Luna Brava, and she trusted the mare’s instincts more than any legend.

  The sky had darkened, and a distant rumble of thunder echoed across the grassnds. Luna suddenly pricked her ears forward, nostrils fring. Then, without warning, she pivoted sharply and bolted toward a distant grove of trees.

  Cami didn’t fight her. She let the Pampalosa run, her powerful legs eating up the distance.

  And then, through the shadows of the grove, she saw it.

  A small, crumbling stone building, long abandoned, half-covered in ivy. And there, tied loosely to an old hitching post, was Tomás’s saddlebag.

  A chill ran down Cami’s spine.

  Why had her brother come here? And more importantly...

  Why hadn’t he left?