They’re alive.
I fall through the barn doors and hit the dirt on my knees.
Air.
Cold, blessed air.
I drag it in, gagging. My body shakes so hard I can barely stay upright.
Behind me, the barn cracks like thunder.
I saved them.
Somehow, I saved them all.
Then I hear another sound.
A sharp, panicked bleat.
My head snaps toward the smaller barn.
My heart stops.
Flames flicker there too.
“No. That’s not possible.”
It’s too far away from the main barn for the fire to have jumped that fast.
The thought barely forms before another bleat cuts through the night.
The bobcat and goats are in there.
“Oh no.”
I force myself up.
My legs nearly fold, but I run anyway.
The smaller barn sits beyond the side pasture, near the old enclosure. Smoke curls from the back wall. Fire licks up one corner, smaller than the main barn but growing fast.
The goats scream when they see me.
“I know,” I choke out. “I know. I’m coming.”
I yank open the side gate and shove it wide.
The goats rush me in a frantic wave, bouncing, stumbling, crying as they pour into the open pasture.
“Go!” I wave my arms. “Go!”
They scatter into the dark.
Then I turn toward Billie’s enclosure.
My body goes cold in a way the fire can’t touch.
Billie is pressed against the far side of her cage, low to the ground, her blind golden eyes wide. Smoke curls around the fencing above her.
