Episode 3 – The ridge of silence

As Marie finally burst outside, the contrast between the damp chill of the open air and the stifling heat of the stable sent a shiver racing across her skin. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, betraying the tension gripping her; each heavy inhale echoed the anxiety of the moment. Marcel’s lingering presence weighed on her like a constant shadow. His words still echoed in her mind, feeding a low-burning anger she struggled to suppress. Her thoughts spun wildly between worry for the horses and a fierce determination — an internal tug of war. Every rumble of thunder vibrated through her, adding weight to her shoulders. She clenched her jaw and muttered bitterly under her breath, a mix of exhaustion and resignation: “Always me. Always me left to handle the mess, while they hide…”

The wind lashed against her face as she ran toward the meadow. Lightning ripped through the sky, casting fleeting shadows and drawing ominous patterns across the landscape. The first drops of rain began to fall — cold and sparse — but enough to fill the air with the scent of damp earth. That smell pulled her briefly back to childhood, to moments spent playing in the fields after a storm. It carried a fleeting sense of calm, and a sharp, aching nostalgia — a reminder of days when responsibility had no place.

The horses were galloping, their whinnies tearing through the thickening darkness. Their flared nostrils released bursts of steam into the humid air, and their wide, gleaming eyes reflected pure fear. Marie knew these animals weren’t just beasts of burden — they were the lifeblood of the Isola estate, economically vital and deeply woven into the daily lives of its people. She couldn’t let them perish. Her thoughts briefly turned to her parents, who had taught her to respect these majestic creatures.

Marie moved slowly toward a golden-coated mare, each step deliberate despite the urgency pressing down on her. Her hand reached out — a silent promise of calm amidst the storm.

“Easy, girl… I’m here,” she whispered, her voice nearly lost in the howling wind.

The mare snorted, her nostrils flaring with panic, sending out clouds of white breath that vanished into the icy air. Her eyes, wide and glassy with terror, darted around the field, their brightness betraying a primal fear. The slightest misstep could shatter this fragile moment of trust.