As I lock the door behind me, I think about my list.
Blue-gray.
Something Mary would like.
I’m going to renovate this clinic. I’m going to stay in Glenfield.
But first, I’m going to save that damn sheep.
CHAPTER 22
MARY
The Veterinary Emergency
(Or How a Stubborn Sheep Reveals Everything Before Ruining It All)
The Glenfield veterinary clinic isn’t exactly impressive.
It’s a small gray stone building wedged between Mrs. MacTavish’s grocery store and Old Angus’s blacksmith shop at the end of Main Street. Jamie MacNeil took it over five years ago, then abandoned it overnight for reasons nobody really understands. When I arrived, I found a place that was functional but sad: two examination rooms with faded beige walls, a surgery corner equipped with the bare minimum, and a tiny waiting room with four mismatched chairs.
Everything smells like disinfectant and damp wood.
The windows overlook the hills stretching behind the village, and on clear days, you can even see McGregor Castle perched in the distance.
I tried brightening the place up with a few green plants and colorful animal health posters, but it’s still exactly what it is: a functional rural clinic in a tiny village buried deep in the Highlands.
Ragnar is lying curled up in the corner of the exam room.
He’s trembling slightly.
His eyes—usually sharp, suspicious, and severe—look dull with pain. When I arrived this morning, I found him waiting outside the door, completely still, waiting for me to open up.
That’s not like him.
Ragnar waits for no one.
He takes what he wants. Charges people he dislikes. Dominates every room with the authority of a battle-hardened general.
But not this morning.
This morning, Ragnar is hurting.
At first, I thought poisoning.
But now that we’re here together, now that I’m really observing him, I realize something doesn’t fit.
He isn’t vomiting. He isn’t drooling. His pupils are normal.
He just looks… miserable.
“You sure it’s poisoning?” Finn asks as he closes the door behind us.
“That’s what I thought.”
“But?”
I bite my lip.
