The crowd thought the boy in the wheelchair was helpless-until the wild mustang lowered his head to his boots

became hard and yellow at the base of the fingers. The chair no longer looked out of place in the round pen; it looked like part of the equipment, dust-coated and necessary.

Cinder learned the chair’s language.

A shift of Jonah’s shoulders could send him out on a circle. A softening of Jonah’s hands invited him back in. The angle of the wheels mattered.continue reading …