You would think that being able to see the future would help someone avoid sticky situations or conflicts. Or even an overbearing mother.

But that wasn't the case for Bruno Madrigal.

He could look into the future all he liked and he would never be able to predict what his mother would do.

(For one thing, he didn't like looking into his own future. That was too frightening to face. For another, he was Bruno Madrigal. Nothing ever seemed to go like he planned or hoped for, so he'd become accustomed to just winging it. And, lastly, his mother was Alma Madrigal. That ought to be an explanation of itself.)

Bruno was quite used to her talking him into giving prophecies and foretelling futures when he didn't particularly want to. It was his duty, a necessary contribution to his community to see and try to warn of any dangers the people might face.

He'd resigned himself to this fate long ago, even if he'd tried to put as much space between the obligation and himself as possible. Every year, the staircase that led to his vision cave grew taller and the journey to the future even more taxing, but there were still those that pushed on.

There was probably something to be said for those people. They were not, at least, afraid to put some effort in.

The future didn't come easily, after all.

But very rarely was it Bruno that was tasked with the job of taking the journey.

"Why am I the one going out if they need a vision?" he asked a bit desperately, watching anxiously as his mother flitted about his room. He flinched and wrung his hands together as he watched her riffle through his dresser drawers. There wasn't anything there to find apart from clothes (Bruno had sensibly hid those types of things beneath his bed), but something about having his mother go through his things made him feel guilty without cause. "Can't they come here? Señor Echevarría is strong and capable of making a trip here."

Alma pursed her lips at him disapprovingly and Bruno quieted, feeling chastised.

"Señor Echevarría may be in good health, but he is dealing with a great deal of worry for his beloved stallion." Alma held up a pair of shirts, pressing them to Bruno's chest briefly before handing him the deep plum button-up. "Wear this one. You know how the family is about their horses - they are their livelihood and Altivo was the first, the one who carried Señor Echevarría and his daughter to safety when she was just an infant."

"I know the story." Bruno muttered, reluctantly accepting the shirt and heading behind the screen to change. He frowned, wondering why he had to look nice to go give a prophecy. Señor Echevarría wouldn't care what he looked like.

"Good. You'll remember to be delicate if you have to inform him of the horse's passing." Bruno flinched - he hated giving death predictions - but Alma couldn't see him and didn't notice as she pressed on. "You're going there yourself to make things easier on Señor Echevarría and his daughter… You remember Cecilia, yes? Your sisters were very fond of her when you were children."

Bruno did, in fact, remember Cecilia Echevarría Valiente, though only vaguely as the tall, gangly child who played football with the boys after school and who had bloodied Telmo Reyes' nose when the little gremlin said something mean to Pepa.

He wondered what she was like now as an adult. He wondered if she would turn from him like all the other kids they had grown up with did in time.

Bruno swallowed thickly as he buttoned his shirt. "She was a very… strong-willed girl."

"Señor Echevarría would still agree with you." Alma's lips curved into an approving smile as Bruno emerged from behind the screen. "Ah, you look so handsome, Brunito. Perhaps young Cecilia will be home when you visit - I think she'll be very impressed with how nice you look."

So that was her game. Bruno made a face before he could stop himself.

"I doubt she'll want much to do with me." he muttered, running a nervous hand through his hair. Most women ignored him and he was okay with that. They made his anxiety even worse.

"I think you'd be surprised." Alma fussed with his hair, rearranging it back into a semblance of order. "The Echevarrías are a good family, niño. Would it be so bad to make friends with such a prominent daughter in our community?"

Bruno raised his eyebrows, knowing exactly what his mother was hoping would come out of this meeting and the real reason he was being sent to the Echevarrías' ranch. His mother thought he had a chance of sweeping Cecilia off her feet, but Bruno wasn't as charming as his mother thought he could be. "Friends, yeah."

Alma rolled her eyes. "Just… try to make a good impression, Brunito. You might be surprised." Then she smiled, a rare twinkling in her eyes that made Bruno both interested and nervous. Pepa often had that same look in her eyes when she was about to get him and Julieta in trouble as kids. "Besides, you're a handsome boy. You have your father's smile - it's a very charming one."

Bruno blushed, an involuntary smile crossing his lips. Alma could be unexpected in ways that got on his nerves or made his anxiety spike, but he often forgot that he was her only son and her youngest. She had doted on him, a little more than his sisters sometimes, when they were still children, and though she didn't do it so often anymore, she could still give him these little surprises.

"Mamá," he protested weakly.

Alma patted his shoulders and urged him to the door. "Enough chatter. It's time for you to be on your way. Give Señor Echevarría and his daughter my regards."

And with that, Bruno was unceremoniously kicked out of Casita.

Cece could hear her father chattering on in a quiet and almost light-hearted tone, the man's lightly accented voice drifting through the slats in the stable wall. It was a voice she was familiar with as the one from her childhood he'd use when she had been sick or hurt, and then later in her more emotional teenage years when he was dealing with the aftermath of a cruel word from one of her peers or a heartbreak from a young love. Her father still used that tone on her when her days were particularly rough, though days like that seemed far and few nowadays.

Cecilia had toughened up over the years and she now welcomed her issues with a sharp grin and biting wit.

Now that soothing tone was reserved for gentling their family's horses, particularly Altivo in recent days.

Their wonderful stallion was now well past his glory days, years past his life expectancy, and had begun to slow and falter at an alarming rate.

Both Cece and her father knew what fate awaited their beloved stallion, even if they weren't ready to admit it aloud yet.

The stable door creaked as she entered, a few of their horses' ears perking up at the sound. Most of them were out in the pasture, with the exception of a pair of orphaned fillies, a skittish gelding who needed more peace and solitude than most, and Hugo, the last colt Altivo had sired.

Hugo was a large horse and looked nearly pure Andalusian, but was still a bit smaller than his sire and had a more expressive face about him. The young stallion leaned his head over his stall door and nickered excitedly as Cece approached.

She rolled her eyes with a smile and presented him with a carrot, well used to Hugo's appetite and penchant for snacks. She always came prepared when she saw him.

Cece couldn't be sure, but she thought that Hugo favored her more over her father or any of their stable hands for that fact alone. She had to admit, she babied the gray stallion a bit, mostly for the fact that he resembled Altivo more closely than any of the other descendants in their herd. He held a special place in her heart.

"You hear that, pal? That's our kids sneaking snacks behind my back."

Cece grinned. "Nice alliteration, Papá. How long did it take you to think of that one?"

Her father graced her with a flat look, unimpressed with his daughter's ribbing. "All morning." he said flatly, then gave her a thoughtful look. "Which is how long you've been gone. What have you been up to all day?"

Cece grimaced, letting herself into the stall to offer Altivo her own affections. "Hello, 'Tivo. I was… exploring a new grove I found. I found a new swimming hole!"

Her father snorted. "A new one, huh? You sure it's not just the one where that Reyes boy caught you skinny dipping and you swore you'd never go back to?"

Cece pointedly kept her eyes fixed on Altivo, detangling a section of his mane with overexaggerated concentration. "I don't remember that at all."

"I do. He stole your clothes and you came home in a palm leaf. I didn't expect him to survive the week with the way you were steaming."

"I broke his nose." Cece huffed, finally glancing at her father. "And I got Julieta and every other girl in town to keep him from getting any of her food to fix it. He wouldn't dare come back there again."

Her father grinned reluctantly, the memory of the Reyes boy's nose resembling an overripe tomato for weeks bringing a sliver of good humor through his gloom. Even if it was at her own expense, Cece was an expert at putting a smile on his face.

"Speaking of Julieta," he said after a moment of silence, the father and daughter working together to brush Altivo's mane. "I asked Alma to send Bruno over today."

Cece looked sharply at her father. "For a prophecy?"

Papá Echevarría winced, recognizing the budding signs of a scolding from his daughter. He'd had enough experience trying to soothe her mother (which usually ended in failure and him sleeping anywhere but their bed) and over twenty years of trying to diffuse Cecilia's anger before it could come to a boil to recognize he needed to choose his words carefully. He wasn't like the rest of the villagers who couldn't go about their lives without pestering the poor Marigal boy over petty things. Cece, in particular, was easily annoyed with the way they fussed and fretted over their future and then turned around and got angry with the boy when he gave them what they asked for. If they couldn't handle the truth about what they made their future into, they shouldn't ask to see it.

What was wrong with living in the moment or being excited for the unexpected things in life?

"It's not what you think." Papá said as firmly as he could. He still couldn't look his daughter in the eye. "I know what's coming. It's… going to be hard to lose our Altivo, but I knew the day would come. Which is why I'm soaking up as much time with him as I can. I just want to get an idea of where I should go with the breeding line. Just as a precaution."

Cece still frowned, but relaxed a bit from her fighting stance. She didn't think her father would take advantage of the Madrigal boy's gift, but she still didn't like the idea of relying on some vision to tell her what horse would be the best replacement for Altivo as their main breeding stock. They knew these horses the best, knew them from birth and all of their temperaments - they should be able to decide that for themselves.

But in all honesty, she couldn't bring herself to blow up at her father for wanting to have an idea of what awaited them. This was a tough time for them and for all that their herd had grown throughout the years, they were still losing a member of their family.

Cece lowered her eyes to Altivo's, the elderly stallion nearly asleep on his feet, and pushed back the rising wave of grief that threatened to consume her.

Altivo existed in her early memories in the same way her father did. He may have only been a horse, but he had raised her, too. He had carried her and her father across the river to safety as the Encanto was formed around them, he had taught her how to listen to those who couldn't speak, to listen beyond words and read both horses and people, to ride and race and explore her own freedom in a way her father couldn't teach her.

The thought of life without him was unfathomable.

"I suppose that's not too much to ask for." Cece admitted begrudgingly, glancing up at her father with a slight pout. "But don't get mad at him if you don't like what you see. After all, you're the one asking for it."

Papá snorted. "Ey, is that you or your mother talking? I know what I'm getting into, chaparrita." He gently hip-checked her. "Maybe you oughta take advantage of the Madrigal boy coming over, too."

Cece raised a brow at her father. "That's kind of bold of you to say, Papá." She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly.

Papá rolled his, mumbling under his breath about her being too much like her mother for her own good. "That is not what I meant." He furrowed his brow as he looked down at her. "I meant, maybe he can see a solution to that stalker of yours."

Cece froze, a cold weight settling in the pit of her stomach. "You know about him?"

"Javier and I chased him off a few times while you were away." Papá said solemnly. "I don't like him sniffing around here like some mutt."

"You and me both." Cece scoffed.

"You could always just break his nose." Papá said, only halfway joking.

Cece grimaced. "I've already hit him. Twice. He said he likes his women feisty like that. Ugh."

They shared a disgusted look.

"He's that type of man, then." Papá frowned. "I could have a talk with him - or with his parents if you want."

Her father usually let her deal with her own problems, having learned the hard way that Cece valued her independence above nearly all else, but he was willing to step in for her if her tactics weren't working.

Cece scowled. "I'd rather not. They'd probably try to talk you into some arrangement. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the only son of the town's banana plantation tamed the wild, Cecilia Echevarría Valiente and inherited her father's ranch someday?"

Papá grimaced. "I'd rather you let out all the horses, burned down the ranch and ran off to join a nunnery or become a wild woman in the jungle."

Cece laughed at that, startling Altivo a bit. "Ah, perdón Altivo. I didn't mean to upset you."

The white stallion shook his head irritably, swatting at Cece with his tail a bit more sharply than he had intended. The young woman yelped at the sting of the long hair where it landed against her bare midriff, and moved to leave the stable.

"Looks like you're in trouble." Papá teased, soothing his horse.

Cece rolled her eyes, tugging her shirt down a bit from where it was tied at her waist to rub at the stinging welt. "I get it, I get it." she huffed. "I'm gonna head out and see if I can meet our local prophet on his way here. He's not liable to abuse me like you two do."

"No, you're more likely to eat him alive." Papá shot back, giving her a knowing look.

Cece grinned. "Oh, please, Papá. Like I'd really be interested in any of the men in the village. I know them too well."

"Even our mysterious Bruno Madrigal?"

"Pepa was so mad at him one day, she pantsed him in the doorway to the school. I've seen his underwear - I know him well enough."

Her father's ringing laughter followed her out of the stable, cutting off with another thwack of a horse's tail through the hair that preceded a masculine yelp.

"Yeowch! Ugh, ask Bruno to look for your future husband!" he called after her. "If that stalker of yours won't respect your wishes, you can at least enjoy watching him get his face beat in by someone else!"

Cece made a gagging noise at the idea. "No way! I won't get married at all!"

"That's what your mother said, too!"

"And she meant it! I'm a heathen child, remember?"

"Then marry that cursed prophet!"

Cece laughed at the idea of her married to the youngest Madrigal triplet and his timid and anxious nature.

It would be a horrible combination - for both of their sakes.

chaparrita: shorty

perdón: forgiveness/I'm sorry