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A young man, about 18 years old, give or take, curly brown hair in disarray, weathered brown skin streaked with dirt, chlorophyll, and scratches, barrels down a steep slope on an electric mountain bike.
Cork oak branches beat him mercilessly as he careens through the trees, bobbing over roots and rocks like a rubber duck in a bathtub.
The young man’s eyes are wide and he turns every now and again, cursing under his breath and pedaling even harder, as if all hell had broken loose and all devils were on his trail.
Well, maybe not all devils, but Satanas for sure.
Satanas, the aptly named, bad-tempered stud bull of Seu Nestor, the steward of the neighboring communal montado, had been steadily gain... Read more
