When he was about 10, Malcolm Reynolds finally devised an escape route that allowed him to slip by the dozens of hands on his momma’s ranch who kept sharp watch on him all day long. It was much more elaborate than it needed to be – one sequence involved the hayloft, a rope and a tuck-and-roll under Hera the cow – but that only made the escape that much more exciting.

His momma only kept cows, which was fine enough. But cows were mighty boring. They ate, they napped and they left giant pies that he had to clean up when word got back to his ma that he’d done something he shouldn’t. A few clicks beyond the border of the ranch was wild horse country.

Mal didn’t know who owned the land they ran on, but he was grateful to whoever the rich sishengzi was. Watching those wild horses run free made his heart pound with excitement. Running as fast as they could, manes streaming out behind them, no one to put a saddle on them and force them to do things.

The thought to try and tame one never crossed his mind; they were much better off the way they were. Mal’s eyes shone while he watched them and it took a lot of willpower to hold himself back from getting too close and running off with them.