Fawn's Arc

Chapter 3 of 6

Fawn walked Spot back to the barn, the necklace still in his hoof. She didn't say much on the way, just touched his shoulder once and smiled. That smile made something settle in his chest, but it also made him want to do more. He spent the next hour running between tasks. First he hauled a fresh bale to her stall, the kind with clover mixed in that she liked best. Then he scrubbed the water trough until his hooves ached, dumped the old water, and filled it fresh from the pump. The washtub took longest — he had to drag it from behind the barn, rinse it twice, then work up a mountain of soapy bubbles the way Spot loved. By the time he finished, his legs were shaking and sweat dripped from his nose. Spot found him sitting beside the tub, too tired to stand. She looked at the hay, the clean water, the bubbles spilling over the edges. Her face softened. She stepped into the tub and sank down with a sigh that sounded like relief. Fawn wanted to tell her about the letter he'd written too, the one with pressed flowers he'd tucked under her hay, but his throat felt tight. He'd done it. He'd actually finished something without getting distracted halfway through. "You didn't have to do all this," Spot said quietly. Fawn shook his head. He did have to. Not because she expected it, but because for once the part of him that loved her had won the race against every other impulse pulling him away. The feeling wouldn't last — he knew that. But right now, watching her close her eyes in the warm bubbles, he'd proven to himself that it could happen at all.