“I’m sure you do.”
Thor shifts in his stall, and Amelia’s attention snaps back to him immediately. Her whole body changes. The flustered woman vanishes, replaced by someone focused, steady, and entirely in control.
“Rory,” she says, “make sure he stays where Thor can see him. No sudden movement. Keep his hand flat if he touches him, and if Thor pins his ears, everyone steps back.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rory says.
“And if he gets kicked, I’m blaming you.”
Rory grins. “Fair.”
I lift a brow. “Not me?”
Amelia looks at me then, and for the first time since she walked in, a small smile pulls at her mouth.
“Oh, you’ll be in too much pain to care.”
“Good to know.”
She steps closer to Thor’s stall, her voice lowering as she speaks to the massive horse.
“Hey, big guy. I know. Lots of people. Lots of noise. But you’re okay.”
Thor’s ears flick toward her voice.
The change in him is immediate. Subtle, but there. His head lowers a fraction, the tension in his neck easing.
Amelia reaches through the stall bars and strokes the white blaze down his face.
“There you go,” she murmurs. “No one’s going to rush you.”
I watch them together, unable to look away.
This is her gift, I realize.
Not just saving animals.
Seeing them.
Their fear. Their limits. Their wounds. The things they can’t say but somehow still tell her.
And I wonder, not for the first time today, who sees her with that same care.
Amelia glances over her shoulder at me.
“If you’re going to help, listen to Rory and pay attention to Thor. He’ll tell you when he’s uncomfortable before he reacts.”
“I’ll listen.”
“To Rory or the horse?”
“Both.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, like she’s deciding whether to believe me.
Then she nods.
“Good.”
