The Phantom of the Opera

César's Story

A/N: The following story is a fan fiction of the novel The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. It has no affiliation with any film or stage adaptations.

For several years, I had been the favorite horse of the Paris Opera. With my pure white coat, which was always groomed so that it shone like the sun, I was often preferred to appear on stage in front of thousands of people, performing whatever tasks and tricks I had been trained to do and accepting the roar and applause of the crowd at regular intervals. Other horses might have shied at all the attention or panicked upon being lifted into the spotlight from the cellars beneath the stage, but I was far too used to it all to be bothered by it. I caused no fuss in the stables, also located within the Opera's multiple cellars, and I always did whatever my handler told me to do.

Even when I was stolen, I did not fight against my captor.

Of course, I did not immediately realize that I was being stolen. I just assumed that I was being taken to the stage for a performance or rehearsal as usual, even though it was late at night, far later than any performance I'd ever been in. I looked up from my hay to the sound of my stall door being opened, and I was immediately struck by the appearance of the man that was coming to fetch me. He was tall, skeletally thin, and was wearing a long cloak that swept the hay-strewn floor at his feet. His face was entirely covered by a black mask. I could just make out his eyes inside their holes, and I was taken aback by their expression: there was a dark fire in them, a fire that promised pain; yet at the same time there was compassion mingled in the smoldering specks, and by instinct I knew that this man meant me no harm. I allowed him to fasten the halter and lead me from the safety and comfort of the stable, following behind him as he headed into the maze of dark corridors that connected all the cellars.

I heard shouts coming from behind us, and I recognized the voice of Lachenel, the head groom. For a moment, I felt a flicker of fear. If he was shouting, then wasn't there trouble? And I had distinctly heard my own name in his yell. The man leading me, as if in response to the yelling, leapt upon my back and urged me forward with his legs. I snorted once uneasily. This was starting to feel very wrong, and I wanted to turn back, return to the hay I'd left uneaten.

But just as I was considering acting on these whims, my kidnapper spoke. "Steady, César," he said. "I will not harm you. But you must come with me. Now."

There was something about that voice, so soft, so smooth, so gentle, that I could not help but trust. It was a voice that promised good things, love, kindness, and care. So I followed his instructions without further complaint and pushed all my unease aside as we dove deeper and deeper beneath the stage of the Opera above us. I did not know where we were going, but he was a competent rider; he used his legs and the lead line still attached to my halter to guide me through the darkness. I heard no sounds of a pursuit, so I supposed the stable workers had decided not to follow us.

At one point, the man slowed me to a stop. The cellar was dark and dank, and even with my good vision it was hard to see what was around me. My captor didn't seem to have any trouble seeing, however, as he dismounted and knelt down for a moment, and a second later, a piece of the floor rose up on a hinge: a trapdoor. "Come, César, come," he said, and I obeyed, following him down a ramp into the darkness, ignoring the twinge of fear I felt in my gut. But I couldn't pretend I wasn't afraid when the trapdoor closed above me, making the inky blackness around me complete and impenetrable. I came to a halt and squealed in fright.

"Steady, César," the man's voice said, and a moment later a lantern flared to life, illuminating the black mask. The fiery eyes were plainly visible, but I could see in their depths that their owner meant me no ill will. He reached up and stroked my forehead, and I huffed contentedly, closing my eyes lazily as his hand wandered up to scratch the spot between my ears. I decided then that I liked this stranger, and I would do whatever he asked of me.

My new master led me deeper into the darkness, holding the lantern high to illuminate the rough stone path that stretched ahead of us. As we walked, the man spoke to me in that same soothing voice that I trusted implicitly. "That's a good boy, César. It's not much farther. Erik's got a nice little place set up for you. I hope you like it. It's nice and cozy. A little chilly, perhaps, but you'll get used to it. And you'll have plenty of hay to eat. I promise to take good care of you, boy."

Even though I couldn't understand his words, I could sense that he fully intended to treat me with kindness. I nickered and picked up my pace a little bit. The man chuckled a little but did not remark.

After several minutes of nothing but walking and darkness, my master finally brought me to a stop and said, "This is where I live, César."

I looked around and saw that we were standing on the bank of a vast, underground lake. The water was black and smooth as glass; not a ripple disturbed its surface. It stretched into infinity, the other side lost in darkness. Even Master's lantern could not penetrate it far enough to reveal the other side. A few feet to our right was a small dock, complete with a boat that could seat two men but could certainly not support me. This was as far as I could go.

"You will live over there," Master said, pointing to an alcove to my left, where someone (and I had a pretty good idea who) had set up a makeshift stall, with soft-looking bedding and a pile of hay that beckoned me to go and enjoy. Perhaps sensing how much I wanted to eat, the man chuckled and said, "All right, César." He led me over to the stall and I immediately began munching on the hay. Its delicious taste and warmth seemed somehow out of place in such a dark, dank environment, but I didn't much care. As I ate, Master continued talking to me and stroking my neck. His touch was pleasant and I nickered to him occasionally in between mouthfuls of hay.

"I can see why the Opera likes to use you," he remarked at one point. "You are a well-behaved horse, César. I am impressed. Erik has encountered many horses in his time, and none have been so calm and obedient as you." He gave me a gentle pat and sighed. "Only animals like you accept me, César. If you were a human you would be running as fast as you could away from me. Because I am not like other men, César. I am hideous, ugly, deformed, and in their eyes, that makes me less than human…"

I could sense the rage building up within him, and I looked up from my hay. The eyes behind the mask were smoldering in anger, but I knew his fury wasn't directed at me. Besides, behind the wrath I could clearly see something else, something that he was trying to hide and deny: sadness, an infinite and terrible sadness that came from a lifetime of pain. I nickered again and pressed my head into his chest, my attempt at comforting him. He reached up and stroked my forehead. "Thank you, César," he sighed. "But you could never understand…you couldn't ever know…"

He stopped, as if considering something, and then without any warning he reached up and ripped the black mask from his head. In the lamplight, his face was thrown into sharp relief, and oh what a face! What a hideous face! It looked like a skull, with sunken eyes, no nose to speak of, and yellow skin stretched tight over the bone. He watched me carefully for a reaction, perhaps expecting me to whinny in fright and bolt. Instead, I stood perfectly still, caught off-guard by his frightful visage. But once the shock of seeing such a face wore off, I calmed down and snorted. I had met men who had nice faces but who were hideously deformed on the inside. Between the two, I would take this man any day. And to tell him so, I huffed through my nostrils and nuzzled him.

My master closed his eyes, and a smile spread across his face, revealing his yellow, mismatched teeth. "Oh César," he sighed, and then he was silent.

I don't know how long we stood there, but after some time, the man stepped back and took my lead line. "Come on, César," he said. "There's something I have to take care of, and I need your help."

I obeyed without question, and my master led me back up the same path we had just taken. Only now, I wasn't certain it was the same path. It seemed like it, but we seemed to keep going into the darkness, much further than we'd gone in the opposite direction. The tunnel was just as dark, illuminated only occasionally with torches fastened to the wall. We continued on in silence, winding left and right, up and down, on and on…

Then the tunnel widened, and I looked around in surprise. We were in a large chamber, one of the cellars of the Opera. The room was illuminated by a fiery red glow, and I quickly located its source: a series of furnaces was lines up against the far wall, and several dark, hulking men were milling about, talking lazily amongst themselves. They didn't notice me, and I kept quiet to keep it that way. These demonic shapes and hellish fires frightened me, and if my master had not been beside me, I might have bolted from fear. As it was, Master silently urged me on, and I obeyed willingly, and a few minutes later the furnaces were behind us.

We kept walking for several more minutes before my ears perked: I had caught the sound of running water. A few moments later, Master's lantern illuminated a small fountain that was gushing from the wall of the tunnel, the water bubbling in a small well and disappearing under the ground. I slowed, and Master allowed me to take a drink. When I was done, I looked up, expecting for my master to continue leading me through the tunnels. Instead, he dropped the lead line and stepped away. I neighed worriedly, taking a step toward him. I didn't want to be left alone here in the dark. But he stopped and said, "No," sternly to me. "Stay, César. Stay here."

I didn't understand, but a moment later he had slipped out of sight. I whinnied in fright. "I am here, César," he said in the darkness, his voice echoing through the tunnel. "Be calm, my friend. I am not far. You are safe."

I settled but was still very uneasy. Thankfully, my unease was short-lived: Master returned a few moments later, and I huffed in relief. "There," he said, stroking my forehead. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I nickered, and he chuckled softly. Then he began to lead me back down the path, once more heading back toward the furnace room. I stiffened uneasily but did not falter, and we were soon safe back in darkness. Before long, we had reached the shores of the lake again. When we arrived, my master gave me a pat and said, "Good, César. That was good. Erik is pleased." Then he took my lead line again, and he led me back the way we'd come. Thoroughly confused, I followed. I noticed that he kept a looser hold on the rope this time, allowing me to amble along at my own pace. I decided to be brisk; I didn't much like traversing these tunnels, and I especially didn't enjoy the furnace room. Soon, we were back at the fountain, and once again, Master left me, ordering me to stay where I was. He was gone for longer this time, but he returned before my worry became outright panic. And then it was back to the lake, and then back to the fountain, over and over. Each time we started the cycle again, his grip on the lead line was looser until he discarded it altogether, allowing me to walk unaided beside him. After a while, the furnaces went dark as their fires were put out and the men disappeared, making me feel more at ease with each trip. My time alone at the fountain was getting longer each trip, too, but I was becoming accustomed to all this by now, and I wasn't worried at all when he was gone for the longest time yet after the ninth or tenth time.

"Very good, César," he said to me, his voice filled with delight, once we had returned to the lake. I had just gone the whole way unguided by rope or hand and had stayed silent and still by the fountain, patiently waiting for Master to return, for I had learned that he would certainly return if I was patient. As a reward, he put me in my stall and allowed me to munch happily on more of the hay.

"Get some rest, César," he said, closing the door behind me. "We both have work to do tomorrow, and I will need you to be completely alert." He rubbed my forehead one more time, and then he boarded the little boat and rowed away into the darkness. The moment he was out of sight, I settled down in the soft bedding for the night and was asleep in minutes.

I don't know how long I slept, and it was impossible to tell what time of day it was when I woke, as the sun didn't reach the underground lake. Master was standing at the stall door, once again dressed in black clothes, cloak, and mask. I stood up and shook the bedding and hay off my coat before nickering to him in greeting. "Hello, César," he said amiably, though his voice sounded a little off, as though something had angered him. I tilted my ears in confusion. Perhaps noticing, Master told me, "It's amazing how stupid people can be, isn't it, César? I don't know how many times I have to tell them what I expect of them before they listen. I fear that it will take Erik's wrath to make them understand that I am not to be ignored…"

He fell into silence for a moment, and I waited patiently, wondering who had made my master so upset. At length, he seemed to come out of a reverie and said, "Well then, César. Tonight, you have a very important task to perform for me…."

It was then that I noticed that he carried a saddle in his arms, and I understood…or I thought I did, at any rate.

He entered the stall and placed the saddle on my back. I stood patiently as he fastened the girth and then waited for the bridle to be fastened around my head. To my surprise, however, the bridle never came. Master opened the door and motioned for me to follow him, which I did at once. We returned to the fountain we had frequented so much the previous night, after once again traversing the furnace room, which was once again alight with that fiery glow and populated by the shadows that never noticed me. They did not bother me anymore; I had gotten too used to them to be disturbed. The fountain had not changed, and I drank my fill as Master disappeared into the darkness as usual, departing with a, "Stay here, César. I will return."

Finished drinking, I straightened and began watching the darkness, waiting for him to return. It didn't bother me that he was gone a long time. He'd disappeared for this long the previous night, and I knew he would return soon. And so I continued to wait patiently.

I waited…and I waited…and I waited…and I waited…

Several hours must have passed, and I was starting to get worried. He had never been gone this long. Was something wrong? Had my master perhaps run into some trouble and was now unable to return? What if he didn't come back…?

And then, at long last, I heard the familiar footsteps, and a moment later, Master's lantern, soon followed by Master himself, came into view. But he wasn't alone this time. Draped over his shoulder like a sack of grain was the inert figure of a young woman, blond hair hanging limply down my master's back. Nearing me, Master set the lantern down before gently lowering the woman to the ground, face-up. I blinked. It was hard to tell in the faint light, but she looked oddly familiar to me…

Before I could place her, however, I heard more footsteps and raised my head to see a strange-looking man approaching. He was dark-skinned, wearing some kind of long garment that rather resembled some of the costumes I'd seen opera performers wear, and his head was covered by an odd hat that I'd never seen before. As he approached, looking wary and curious, Master swung around, and in the split-second I could see his masked face, it seemed as though sparks were flying from his eyes. I could sense the sudden surge of fury that rose within him, and with the speed of a snake, my master struck the man on the head, and the stranger slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Master returned his attention to the girl, his demeanor once again gentle and calm. The sudden shifting of his moods startled me, and I stood stiffly beside him as he rested the girl's head on his lap. He dipped his hand into the well and started dabbing the girl's temples. Almost at once, she stirred feebly and opened her eyes, looking around in confusion. Seeing my master, she weakly attempted to push his hands away and said, "Who are you? Where is the voice?"

My master sighed quietly, sounding disappointed, but didn't answer. I bent my head down toward her, sniffing curiously. At the sound of her voice, a memory had stirred in my mind: this girl had come down to the stables occasionally, and I was her favorite. She would often feed me little treats: sugar cubes or pieces of carrot. She had such a pretty face, pure and childlike, and I liked her immensely. I wondered why Master had brought her down here….

As if in response to my wandering thoughts, Master gathered the girl up in his arms and lifted her into the saddle on my back. I neighed happily, pleased to be able to carry such a sweet-hearted woman as she, and she murmured my name in response. I quivered joyfully, but I did not sense any joy from her. She seemed worried about something, and she called out once feebly for help before she slumped in the saddle and said nothing more.

Master, standing by my side in order to support the girl, motioned for me to move, and I obeyed, beginning the long walk back down to the shore of the lake. I felt the girl's unease at the presence of the people in the furnace room, but as usual, none of them noticed us, and before long, we had reached the water's edge. I came to a stop, and my master helped the girl slide down from my back. She looked at the boat, and her eyes were wide with terror. Perhaps noticing her fear, Master motioned for me to leave, and I obeyed, unsure why he wanted me to go away but not questioning it. I returned to the fountain for a drink, as I was so used to the path that I was able to find my way even without my master's guiding hand. I then used my ears to make up for my limited eyesight in order to return to the lake. The boat, I noticed, was gone. Master had taken the girl across the water. I entered my stall, where, after eating the grain that my master had put in my feed bin, I settled down for the night.

It was impossible to tell time in my new home, but several days passed uneventfully. With no rehearsals or performances to worry about, my time was spent eating, drinking, sleeping, and spending time with my master, who visited me what I estimated to be once a day. I did not see the young woman I carried down to the water's edge again, so I assumed she was somewhere on the other side of the lake. Perhaps there was some kind of dwelling over there, and that's where she and my master stayed. Every once in a while, I would hear strains of music, and though it was hard to determine its source in a chamber that echoed as much as this one, I thought it came from somewhere across the lake. It was always beautiful to listen to, and I would stand perfectly still, listening to the marvelous notes reverberate off the surface of the water. If either my master or the girl ever left via another exit, I was unaware of it. Whoever the stranger Master knocked out was, I did not see him again, and I was, by and large, left by myself for most of the time. When I felt restless I would wander up and down the tunnels, and I got to a point where I did not fear the shadowy men fueling the furnaces in the least, though I still did not allow myself to be seen.

Despite how seldom I actually saw him, I grew rather fond of my master, who fed me every day and talked to me as he cleaned out my stall. He never wore his mask when he was around me, but I was unafraid of his awful deformity, and to be honest, I preferred seeing his face over wondering what expression lay behind that blank, black mask.

The day after we brought the girl down, he seemed dour and angry, and he fumed as he scooped up my manure from the ground. "She dared…she dared…!" he muttered darkly. "She dared touch Erik's mask! Even after Erik warned her not to!" He looked up at me, pausing in his work. "She says that she will be loyal…that she can look upon this face without fear…we shall see, César. We shall see…"

A few days later, he was considerably more cheerful. "She has spoken true, César," he said. "She sings with me without flinching. She even burned my mask! Imagine that! Now she has no choice but to look at me, and she does it without fear!"

And so it was that some time passed…

I awoke one day to my master's loud, angry voice, and I scrambled to my feet, afraid that I had somehow displeased him. But then I realized that Master was not talking to me. In fact, he wasn't even looking in my direction. And he wasn't alone. A few yards away from where I stood, I could see the shape of the mysterious man who had found us by the fountain all those nights ago. He didn't look happy, but my master's anger surpassed his by far. With all the echoing, it was hard to hear what they were saying, but I could see that my master was greatly displeased by his presence.

After a few moments, he fell silent and sat down on the stern rail of the boat, and the stranger spoke in a rather softer, if rough and oddly accented, voice. "It's not Erik that I'm after here!"

"Who then?" Master snapped.

"You know as well as I do: it's Christine Daaé," the stranger replied.

My master snorted and said, "I have every right to see her in my own house. I am loved for my own sake."

"That's not true," the other said in a calm voice that I thought sounded a little sad. "You have carried her off and are keeping her locked up."

"Listen," Master said, sounding irate. "Will you promise never to meddle with my affairs again, if I prove to you that I am loved for my own sake?"

"Yes, I promise you."

"Well, then, it's quite simple…. Christine Daaé shall leave this as she pleases and come back again! …Yes, come back again, because she wishes…come back of herself, because she loves me for myself!…"

My master's voice rose passionately as he spoke until he was nearly shouting. Raw emotion filled every syllable he uttered, and I suddenly came to an understanding. Even though I didn't understand a word of their conversation, I could figure out that my master was in love, and I figured that the girl I'd carried down here was the object of his affections. And this man, the stranger dressed in the odd clothes, wanted to come between them for some reason. It appeared they knew each other, these two, and I wondered how they had met and what circumstances had put them at such odds with each other….

My musings were interrupted when my master began to sing loudly, his voice echoing off the walls and filling my ears with an odd, ethereal kind of beauty. He broke off and said something to the stranger, but my ears were still ringing and I didn't catch it.

The stranger responded, "Look here. I shall believe you if I see Christine Daaé come out of the house on the lake and go back to it of her own accord."

"And you won't meddle any more in my affairs?" Master inquired, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

The other shook his head. "No."

My master nodded and said briskly, "Very well, you shall see that tonight. Come to the masked ball. Christine and I will go and have a look round. Then you can hide in the lumber-room and you shall see Christine, who will have gone to her dressing room, delighted to come back by the Communists' Road…. And now, be off, for I must go and do some shopping!"

This seemed to satisfy the stranger, for he nodded once and departed, disappearing into the darkness without a glance my way. My master, on the other hand, came over to where I stood and stroked my forehead. "Hello, César," he said pleasantly. "It seems as though things are going well for Erik at last! I must go, my friend, but I will be back soon."

With one last pat, he departed after the stranger, leaving me to gaze after him in confusion.

The path I had treaded so often was incredibly popular that day. My master returned a while later, carrying an armful of packages, and then after another few hours or so, the boat returned to the dock, carrying two people. The first one I recognized as the woman I had carried. She was dressed in a strange black costume and carried a matching black mask. But it took me several minutes to recognize the other person, who was dressed in a huge, gaudy red costume, complete with a large plumed hat and cloak that trailed the ground. A moment later, I realized that the skull mask was not a mask at all: it was my master. They both glanced my way before heading up the passage and out of sight. They were gone for a long time, while I munched on my hay and took a trip to the well for a drink. Finally, the two of them returned.

I wasn't certain, but I rather thought that the girl looked immensely unhappy.

The days continued to pass uneventfully. I did not see the girl again, and I began to see my master less frequently as the time wore on. But I was hearing more music coming from across the lake, and its pitch and intensity was becoming more frenetic, almost frightful. Something wasn't right, but I had no idea what.

When I awoke that one day, I knew that whatever had my master so distressed had finally pushed him over the edge. The music coming from across the lake was furious in its rhythm and volume. I could feel Master's wrath rolling off the water's surface like waves. I pinned my ears back in fear, but then he hit one last high note before the music ended completely. For a while afterward there was silence from whatever lay beyond the lake, a silence that I didn't like. It was a heavy silence, the calm that always came before the storm. And I was afraid of what this storm might bring….

I spent the day in my stall. I didn't eat, and I didn't go to the fountain for a drink. Master did not come to clean my bedding, and the only sleeping I did was a couple of light dozes on my feet, none of which lasted long. I was waiting. I wasn't sure what I was waiting for, exactly, but I waited in patient silence.

It was several hours later when I finally sensed movement, and I looked up to see a middle-aged man coming down the passage, holding up a lantern. I flicked an ear in confusion: I had never seen this man before, and I had no idea what he was doing down here. He noticed me and stopped, looking surprised. "You must be César," he murmured. "So you were stolen after all…they say by a ghost. But I daresay your captor is no phantom, César…"

He looked away from me and looked down at the boat at the dock. After a brief hesitation, he climbed in, picked up the oar, and began to row into the darkness. I whinnied angrily: that boat was my master's, not this stranger's! But the man didn't even glance back at me as he slowly paddled out into the lake. I paced my stall and whinnied again, but it did no good. He was by now just a blot in the darkness, illuminated only by the lantern in the boat.

And then, without warning, there was a splash and a yell, and the light vanished. I froze and stared at the spot where the boat had disappeared from sight, listening to a series of violent splashing sounds, like there was a struggle, and a moment or two later, silence fell. The man did not reappear, which could only mean…

Suddenly, a dark shape emerged from the water by the dock, pulling the boat back into its original position. Then my master, dripping from head to foot, looked up at me, and he grinned. "Well, César, it appears our visitor will not be troubling us anymore. He has…gone for a swim…"

The smell of death was strong on him, even under the water from the lake. He approached me and reached out to pat me, but I shied back with a small squeal of fright. For the first time since he had brought me here, I was afraid of my master.

He stared at me, his mocking smile gone. He seemed to realize that he had terrified me. "Oh, César," he sighed. "I am sorry, my friend. I did not mean to scare you so. That man was a trespasser, and he had to be dealt with." He held up his hand again. "Forgive me?"

He waited, standing motionless, and I considered him for a moment. And then I huffed and pressed my forehead into his palm. He smiled again, though without that awful sarcastic glint that I hated. "Thank you, César," he murmured. Then he drew back and added, "Well, I have some business to attend to. Stay here, César, and pray all goes well…"

And with that, he walked back into the lake, putting a reed into his mouth to allow him to breathe, and he was gone.

The time that followed moved so slowly that I wondered if time had somehow stopped entirely. I heard nothing from the realm across the lake except, once, for a piece of fiercely-placed music. No screams, no yells, no curses, nothing to suggest that something was going on. Yet somehow I knew that something was happening over there, something that would change everything. Oddly enough, I had no fear for my own life. It had never crossed my mind that I was in danger. My entire being was focused on my master. What was he doing? Where was the girl, and how did she factor into this? What about the strange man in the odd clothes and hat? I paced and paced and paced, glancing occasionally over at the darkness where I imagined all the action was taking place. I don't know long I stayed there pacing. It could have been several days for all I know, days of just waiting, waiting, always waiting…

And then, at long last, I heard footsteps, coming, to my surprise, from the tunnel behind me. I looked around and felt my heart leap. It was my master. I whinnied happily and trotted up to him, but then I realized something. He wasn't himself. He was walking with his head down, and his shoulders sagged. Something had happened to depress him. Also, I understood with a jolt of the heart, he was ill. My master was dying.

"César," he murmured, reaching up to stroke my forehead as he always did. "César, my friend…it's over, it's all over. She is gone, César. Gone. I let her go. I loved her, but she did not love me. Beauty does not love the Beast. But she has redeemed him. Oh yes, Erik has been redeemed, César. She pitied me enough to let me kiss her. Just on the forehead, but oh! Oh, what a kiss! And then…would you believe it, César? She kissed me back! And she cried, she cried for poor Erik…"

My master began to cry, tears spilling from his eyes and dribbling down his sunken cheeks. I noticed that the fire I had so often seen in his eyes had almost completely died out. That knowledge made my heart clench painfully.

"Do not feel bad for me, my friend," he said, smiling sadly. "My pain is almost at an end. I have come to return you to the Opera stable. You need to return to your normal work. It's what you were trained for, and you are good at it. Don't worry, in time you will forget about me." He reached up and stroked my face again, and sighed. "But I shall never forget you."

My master returned me to the stable that very night. "Farewell, César," he said. "It has been a great joy to have you. You…you've been a tremendous comfort to poor Erik…"

He unhooked the halter and stepped away, but I whinnied and lunged forward. He turned in time to catch my head as I shoved it into his chest. I felt his breath hitch, and he wrapped his arms around my neck. "Oh, César…" he moaned. He shifted so that his lipless mouth was next to my ear. "I love you, César. Thank you…for everything…"

He released me and stepped away, shutting the stall door before I could join him. Then he turned and walked away. I whinnied once after him, but he did not turn. A moment later, he had vanished, and I never saw him again.