“But she’ll die,” Rowe argues.
“She’ll hurt us if she keeps on! Rowe, we have to.”
More shelves fall and are pounded by hooves. Wood sprays into the air, splattering against my clothes. Piggycorns squeal. Stella neighs so loudly that it sounds like shrieking.
Everything’s coming undone.
If I can just open the door, maybe she’ll run out.
Just as I reach it, a light slowly flares to life and Stella goes quiet.
“Pane,” Rowe whispers.
I turn around to face them. The first thing I see is Stella standing calmly on top of splintered and broken shelves that now litter the floor.
Above us, the bare bulb dimly glows. Outside the wind has died down. The storm’s passed, leaving in its wake a deafening silence. But inside, the hum of electricity fills the cramped room that smells of farm animals.
And in the corner, cowering just behind Rowe, stand all the piggycorns, including Tallulah, the runt.
She looks proudly up at Stella, and Stella looks back down at her.
Because Tallulah’s horn is glowing.
It’s glowing just like the light in the cellar.
