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

 horse came anyway.

He walked with an easy, rolling stride, unhurried and certain. No tightness gathered in his neck. No white flashed around his eyes. He crossed the pasture as if the chair belonged there, as if Jonah had always been a fixed point in the landscape.

Cinder stopped close enough that his chest nearly touched the front of the chair. He continue reading …