“Unveiling Secrets: How Jess Phoenix’s ‘The Race’ Transforms the Meaning of Survival in an Unforgiving World”
Anthracite shuddered to a halt, and I slid off, shaking. It was sheer luck that we had missed all the gopher holes. Unfortunately, I had lost sight of the urtuu lights during our chaotic sprint. The bike’s headlight was close but had not found us yet. I judged it to be a minute or two from where we were, tops. I had to try again.
Once more, I put my boot in the stirrup and launched myself with a tremendous heave upward. I wasn’t sure my quivering legs had enough strength to get me off the ground this time, but I managed. Anthracite bolted again, and I could hear the harsh ringing as his hooves struck rocks neither of us could see. For the second time, I found myself stuck behind the saddle on a wildly galloping horse. Another one-rein stop, this time to the right. I slid off, gasping as I touched terra firma. My legs burned from the failed attempt to get over that high cantle and into the saddle, and the subsequent desperate effort to stay on. A vision of me on the ground, arm bent at an unnatural angle with bone piercing the skin, easy prey for two strong men, catalyzed what came next.
