The worn doors sagged off their hinges, half-heartedly preventing any would be scavengers from entering the barns shadowy interior. Stale hay crunched beneath my feet as I wriggled through them, splinters and flecks of paint clinging to my clothes and hair. Late afternoon light streamed through the shattered windows and missing slats, capturing dust motes and sending them spinning. Remnants of tack still hung on the walls, the once supple leather now cracked and gnarled. Riding boots that once would have been polished to a high shine now sat dull and draped with spider webs, the helmets beside them full of rats nests and small bones. Cold air pressed against my skin as I wandered into one of the abandoned stalls, curiosity overcoming the nagging feeling that something wasn't right. A feed bag still hung on the door below a hand made name plate that read 'Maisy' in a child's hand writing. A rope dangled beside it, its end uneven and frayed as if it had been hacked at with a knife.