One afternoon, as rain pooled on the farm, Céu let out a sound—a low, rumbling neigh. Luna stood frozen, then crawled on her knees toward him, her face lit with triumph. "You like the songs," she whispered. He nuzzled her hand, his nose warm against her wrist.
Check for cultural references to ensure accuracy. Since it's in Portuguese, maybe include elements common in Portuguese storytelling, like naming the horse with typical names or incorporating local settings. But not necessary unless specified. videodecavalocomendoumamulherdequatro
At first, the horse turned away from Luna’s small hands. She tried offering apples, but he snorted and stepped back. Others had learned to read his moods. But Luna, undeterred, sat on the grass outside his stable each morning, humming lullabies her grandmother had taught her. "You’re not afraid of me," she’d say. "Why?" One afternoon, as rain pooled on the farm,