After Caleb has been rescued, as the crew prepares to climb the mountain.
“Hey, Zinovy. What are we going to do about the horse? He’s been following you around all day. We can’t take him up the mountain, can we?”
Zinovy turned. The horse sauntered up to him and nuzzled his hand. “I don’t know. We should send him back to the other horses I suppose.”
They tried. Several times. They led him out of the compound and told him to go. Every time the horse would simply nod his head and turn back.
Finally Zinovy took the situation in hand. He spoke to the stallion: “You must stay with the others,” he said, moving his hand up and down the horse’s neck. “You have no place with us. Don’t you see? You belong on these plains.”
The horse raised his head and looked Zinovy in the eye. Then he turned and walked away. At the edge of the compound he stopped and whipped his head around again. Zinovy waved him on. The Arabian nodded once more, gave a loud whinny, then ran off at a gallop.
“Some day we’ll meet again,” Zinovy whispered. It was a prophecy, meant for the future. But for now, there was a mountain to climb.