The Black Stallion and the Lost City by Steve Farley

of cedars. Beyond the trees to the east they saw a waterfall pouring from a high cliff on the resort side of the swirling river. For some reason, the sound of the falling waters did not roar but hung almost softly in the air.
    “I didn’t know there was a waterfall here,” Xeena said.
    Alec nodded. “No one mentioned it to me either.”
    Accentuated by the misty vapor rising off the falls, there was a feeling of great age in the tranquil atmosphere, Alec thought, maybe even outside of time. Somehow it was almost frightening to think about the history of a place like this, and how old it really was.
    “It is certainly beautiful,” Alec said. He wondered aloud to Xeena about the ancients who had surely stood in this very spot and viewed this same misty scene before them now. “Do you ever think about things like that?” Alec asked her. “Here we are looking at the same scenery they did, in a place that probably hasn’t changed much in thousands of years. Iwonder if the ancient Greeks were like us or if they’d even recognize us as being like them.”
    “What do you mean?” Xeena said.
    “Everything must have been so different back then,” Alec said. “Could their world bear any resemblance to the world of today? Did they see as we see, feel as we feel, think as we think?”
    Xeena shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they?”
    “I don’t know,” Alec said. “People are different wherever you go, I guess, even today. Back then it must have been … really different. You can almost feel it in the air here.”
    “Maybe we should tell Jeff about this place,” Xeena said. “Maybe Bateman could shoot a scene up here.”
    Alec laughed. “Hard to imagine a camera crew following the route we just took,” he said.
    The stallion led them out of the grove and down to the river’s edge. There the trail followed along the riverbank in the direction of the falls. A steep, rocky slope rose up beside the path to their left, and the river ran swift and narrow to their right. Across the river, only about fifty yards away, Alec could see nothing but thick woods.
    He looked out at the water cascading down and exploding in the river below. For a moment he thought he saw something moving there, a flash of whiteagainst the black rocks and silver spray. “Hey,” he said to Xeena. “What’s that?”
    “What?”
    “I thought I saw something over there,” Alec said. “Something big.”
    “Where?”
    Alec pointed ahead. “There … across the river … in those rocks, right beside the falls.”
    “Where?” Xeena asked again.
    “There it is again,” Alec said, all his attention focused at the spot across the river.
    Just then, the Black lowered his head, sniffing the ground. When he straightened up, he jerked his neck so suddenly that Alec was caught unprepared. The lead shank slipped from his fingers and ran through his left hand.
    Alec immediately moved to his horse, but it was too late. The stallion whirled and ran, gaining full stride almost immediately, his mane and tail streaming in the wind he created, the shank trailing at his side. In a matter of seconds, the stallion was fifty yards away.
    “Black!” Alec called after his horse, chiding himself for being caught napping and losing his grip on the shank. Thankfully the stallion wouldn’t get too far. The trail before him edged the bottom of the steep, rocky slope on one side with the river on the other. Itcame to a sudden stop about a hundred yards ahead where the path had been washed out by the river.
    “Want me and Cleo to go get him?” Xeena asked.
    “I better do it,” Alec said. “He must be in one of his moods.” Alec shook his head and broke into a slow jog. “Crazy horse,” he muttered to himself as he trotted along.
    The stallion reached the washed-out section of the trail and stopped. “Black,” Alec called to him, again not too worried that the Black was doing anything more than playing around.
    Then suddenly, with a wild cry, the Black