33. Candice
33
CANDICE
“Nathan,” I say, shaking him in a blind panic. “Wake up.”
“What? What’s happening?” he asks, blinking a few times.
“It’s Storm,” I say, my heart in my throat. “I woke up and checked on her, and she doesn’t look good.”
“I’ll go get Beau,” he says, leaping out of his seat. “Stay with her. I’ll run to the house.” He takes off out of the barn and across the yarn, making a beeline for the front door.
Tabi winds her way around my legs and lets out a sad meow, like she knows things are about to get difficult. I reach down and scoop her up, holding her close to my chest. I try not to panic, and I tell myself to take deep breaths. But all I can see is Storm’s listless form, her head lowered to the stall floor, her eyes dull.
I hear the front door bang shut and Beau and Nathan come running out, a flashlight beam bouncing across the ground in front of them. Beau goes to check on Storm in the stall immediately, and I follow, hoping that I can help keep her calm while he looks at her.
I crouch down by her head as he checks her over, and give her a few strokes along her neck.
“Candice,” he says softly, his voice telling me all I need to know.
“She’s going to die, isn’t she?”
“She’s getting weaker, not stronger.”
“Can’t we do anything else?” I say, a sob escaping me.
“I think we have to let her go,” he says.
Tears drip down my nose and I nod, staring into Storm’s eyes. They look tired.
“I’ll give her more IV fluids and antibiotics, and if she makes it through the rest of the night, then of course we’ll keep trying,” Beau says gently.
“Okay,” I say, though I know he’s just trying to be nice. She won’t make it through the night.
Nathan crawls into the stall and sits next to me, wrapping an arm around my side.
“I’ll wait with you two,” he says.
Together, the three of us sit with Storm, keeping a silent vigil around her, hoping and praying that she makes it through.
Storm passes as dawn arrives at Star Mountain. She leaves us just as the rest of the world starts to wake up, as the sky turns from black to gray, shot through with yellow and orange, and then brilliant pink and purple. Nathan helps me up and out of the stall gently. Beau walks out into one of the paddocks and lets out a hoarse scream, venting his frustration and sadness out into the world.
I hate seeing my strong, capable brother sound so broken. I know that every animal death hurts him, though he’d never complain or mention it. It hurts me too, right down to the very bottom. I feel myself teetering on the edge of something—a black hole inside of me filled with grief so thick and deep that I know if I fall into it, I may never find my way back to the surface.
“I need to get inside,” I say, a sob escaping me. I feel my knees falter, and Nathan catches me, propping me up. “I need to go,” I repeat.
Nathan swings me into his arms without hesitation, and carries me towards the house without a word. I cling to him, seeing nothing but Storm’s face, over and over again in my mind. And then my grandma’s. And my grandpa’s. And even the hazy, time-addled outline of my parents—tall and strong and huge in the way that parents always are when you are young and small.
A sob rips through me again, and I feel my body thrash, but Nathan holds me tight. And then, soft blankets and warm arms around me, rocking me gently in the dark.