Dance to the End

Short Fiction by Abram Dress

The campsite overlooked a valley and a small village. Rain drops hissed as they spattered on the campfire. The wind had picked up, piercing a chill through Danny’s overcoat. He lay back on his saddle, hat cocked over both eyes. Dancer nickered at him. 

“Shut yer lips. I fed you already.” He snuggled down into his jacket against the cold. “What d’ya want …