* * *
We headedout by taxi twenty minutes later, armed with every supply we could possibly need. I knew what Laurent usually kept stock of and I’d checked briefly the night before.
Wren asked me questions about the sanctuary, what we’d have there to use, what I knew about the horse. I’d taken a quick look at him last night before I’d left, not able to see much with poor lighting, but it had been enough to verify that it wasn’t a worst case scenario and we could get him through it.
She’d changed into shorts and a t-shirt, oversized sunglasses that were more like a visor. We both carried bags of what we thought we’d need. The procedure was one we were both familiar with; an abscess was vet one-oh-one really, although we’d likely have a skittish horse to contend with, which Wren knew were the one thing that occasionally made me nervous.
Laurent was nowhere to be seen when we pulled up. The morning chores looked to have been done and there were an array of volunteers busying about like well-trained worker bees.
We exchanged a few greetings, some in French, some German, a couple in English, and found we’d been expected. I’d said we’d be here and Laurent had taken me at my word, no need to confirm.
The horse had a name, Embry, and was too thin and nervy. He was still in his stable, fed and watered but clearly uncomfortable. Wren was there offering him sugar cubes and soft words, murmuring sentences that he seemed to understand and I remembered how she’d always been like this with horses.
The abscess was bad, smelling potent, but treatable – just. We started to prep what we needed; saline solution and a sterilising kit for the scalpel.
“Who’s doing it?” she said quietly. We’d drawn an audience, one or two of the volunteers milling round the stable, keeping enough of a distance not to spook Embry.
“The honour’s yours.”
“Sure.” She shifted herself around to his back leg, positioning herself so that if he kicked out, she wouldn’t be in the way. Then she gloved up and took the scalpel, lancing the abscess with quick precision.
“That smells.” We came across a lot of interesting stenches as vets and this was a particularly bad one.
“It does. That’s got to feel so much better now that’s coming out.”
I passed her the saline and she started to rinse out the wound, clearing out the infection. I used the torch we’d thought to bring to light the area and within ten minutes it was done.
“Gauze. I know we usually leave it open to drain, but the flies…” I looked over at one of the volunteers who had told us was studying to become a vet. “Harry, can we trust you to change this? Do it in an hour, then two hours, then three. Keep checking it.”
He nodded, neck stretching over to see what we were doing. “That’s fine. Remove it and reapply?”
“Yep.”
Wren applied the gauze, the horse now standing still. It seemed calmer now, less agitated. We’d open the stable and let him out into the field where there were five other horses, all looking fit and healthy.
“Job done.” She stood back and looked pleased with herself, grinning like how I remembered she would after treating an animal. “What’s next.”
“I’ll take him out. Is that okay?” Harry said, his eyes fixed on Wren.
“Perfect. He’ll be feeling so much better. We’ll check on him tomorrow but I think we’re here filming the next day anyway. He’ll need antibiotics for the next week to make sure the infection’s properly gone.”
“That’s cool. I’d love to do something like that one day.” Harry said and stared at me as if he knew me. “Weren’t you the guy who went out with that model?”
“I was her date for an event. She’s a friend.” And gay, but that wasn’t common knowledge.
“Wish I was you, man.” He gave a low whistle and headed off with Embry which was fortunate as my patience was as good as the sleep I’d had.
“To be fair, you’re not the one who will smell of infection for the rest of the day.” She was still smiling.
“You know something will probably bite me or find some way to leave a scar.”
“This is true. Shall we do a health check on the other horses?” Her eyes flashed with enthusiasm.
Even though I’d had nights with women that a lot of men would’ve given their left testicle to sleep with, there had never been anything that had made me want to keep them around for the next day when we’d need to find something to talk about. Wren was different. She had always been different.
“Sure. You can lead. I’ll be your beautiful assistant.”
“Why don’t we film it? Put it on your stories or at least send it your family. Let’s get Harry to do it, then if you get kicked by a horse we can all share it and laugh.”
