They know better. One stamps, the other backs into a corner, muscles jumping with fear. They can smell what I am. Without Lila, they don’t trust me.
“Easy,” I try again, softer this time, but it comes out harsh. The wrong kind of voice.
Their fear crawls under my skin. I step back, close my eyes, force the beast as far down as it will go.
When I open them again, they’re still watching me.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, barely sound at all.
The chestnut blinks first. Her ears flick.
I stay still—just breathing, letting them hear it, letting them feel that I mean no harm.
Slowly, the tension eases off them.
The filly stretches her neck, nostrils trembling, then nudges my sleeve.
Warm breath touches my wrist, quick and shy.
“That’s it,” I say. My voice cracks. “Youcan trust me not to hurt you at least.”
I stroke her muzzle.
I move slowly, so I don’t break the spell. The buckets hang on the wall, cold metal clanking. The smell of oats rises when I pour, sweet and dusty.
The gelding watches, ears flicking, then steps forward. The filly follows, brushing against my arm as she reaches the trough.
They eat. Careful at first.
I stand there listening to their peaceful munching, delaying the moment when I have to drag myself away from Lila’s place for good.
Then—
The lights fizzle.
Go out.
Darkness drops like a curtain.
Did I cause it, somehow?
Then I hear the wind tear at the roof and know it’s the lines.
Power’s gone.
The ponies keep eating, unbothered.
My eyesight adjusts immediately. I go to the light switch and flick it a couple of times for good measure.
Nothing.
If I know the power company it’ll be out for a good few hours—at least ’til morning.
She’ll be inside, in the dark.
Maybe afraid.
The thought rips at my insides.
