Erik looks to his son, who joins him in a fond smile. “He works at Wild Heart with us. He’s our foreman, in fact. In charge of all the animals.”
Silas drums the table, broadening his smile. “Johnny.”
Indaja focuses on Ant. “How did this compare to Silas’s first meeting withBlueberry?”
Ant, still angry at Ronan’s words, reminds himself why they’re here. He takes a breath.
“I don’t think Sy had ever seen such a large animal before.”
A grin twitches near the corner of his mouth. Erik, too, has the same amused grin.
Ant continues, “You have to understand that we don’t actually know Sy’s age. We’re guessing five, but he may have been six or seven or eight. He was severely malnourished when they found him. Tiny. Short for his age group. Blue was enormous in comparison.” He pauses, losing himself in the memory. “You’ll have to ask my son, but I think her size made him feel calm.”
“Safe,” Silas provides, his voice rough. “Blue was the first soul who ever made me feel safe.”
Ant and Erik take each other’s hands.
“So,” Indaja continues, her voice gentle, “with a highly trained horse, who had a unique understanding of traumatized children, you two demonstrated your trust in Silas in the safest way you could think of.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Indaja turns to Ronan. “Sy’s early childhood history with animals is disturbing, and it’s not unreasonable to assume he could still be a danger to them. But,” she says, turning back to Ant and Erik, “in all the years you’ve cared for and loved Silas, have you ever seen him harm an animal?”
Erik and Ant shake their heads, resolute.
Indaja raises her brows, making a small gesture toward Cupcake, who is practically wrapped around Silas’s ankles. “Animals know.”
Ronan curses softly under his breath, then nods. The room goes quiet.
“He doesn’t just care for them. He mourns them when they die,” Ant says softly. “Blueberry was already an older horsewhen Silas became part of our family. When she died, I’m not sure who cried harder, Silas or Johnny.”
“How did you help them process that grief?”
Erik takes this answer. “Johnny had already transferred to a different therapy horse, so we booked extra time for them. But for Sy… We did what we always do.”
Ant looks to the man sitting next to Indaja.
“We called Edison.”
Edison shifts in his seat.
Erik explains, “We knew puberty would be dangerous, and it was. But Edison always showed up for us. Mentoring, instructing. He was there for Silas, but really, he was there forus.”
Ant nods. “And Edison did this knowing that, eventually, their combined modifications would make it difficult to be in the same space at the same time. He made so many sacrifices, knowing this would be the result.”
Erik sniffs loudly. “We could not have done this without him.”
Edison, ever stoic, dips his chin.
Indaja turns to Edison. “How is it working with Silas now?”
“We have to maintain a minimum distance in an operation, but we’ve learned to make it work.”
“What happens if you don’t maintain that minimum distance?”
“It sets off a sort of hormonal cascade that neither of us has control over.” He gestures to the room. “Though the emotion of the day seems to have put a damper on that.”
He checks in with Silas, who nods.
