Fawn's Arc

Chapter 11 of 13

Morning came gray and cold. Fawn walked to the bales with his head high. He had done it once. He could do it again. But when he rounded the corner, the hay was already wrong. Loose straw lay flung in a wide, messy fan, gold scattered across the dirt like something had been clawed open in a hurry. Spot sat on the wooden bench beyond the bales. The carved box was open on her lap. Her hooves rested on the lid. Inside, the velvet was bare. No ring. Only the golden shard, lonely in the corner. Fawn's chest went hollow. He stepped closer. "Spot. I put it there. I swear I put it there." She did not look up. "I know you did." Her voice was quiet. "I came to find you. The box was already dug up." She closed the lid with a small click. "The ring is gone, Fawn." He dropped to his knees in the scattered straw and dug. He dug until his hooves ached. Hay flew. Dirt flew. The topaz did not appear. Somewhere between dusk and dawn, someone or something had found his hiding place. The one promise he had said only once was broken before breakfast. Spot stood. She tucked the box under her arm and walked past him without a word. She did not slam anything. She did not cry. That was worse. Fawn stayed on his knees in the ruined hay, and knew he would have to find the ring himself, or lose her for good.