In the Woods, Bears

Chapter 24 - New Life

Bundled up warmly, Old Joe eased his way into the barn, where Terry crouched just outside the new mother's stall. The smell of birth and new life filled the air. The healer kept one hand on Snow's shoulder as she guided him to the back of the barn where the baby donkey had newly arrived. Kennedy held motionless, seated at the end of the breezeway on a rickety stool, wishing invisibility was one of her shapes. The old man smiled, milky blue eyes unfocused as he paused within a foot of Terry and his open bag. "How is she?"

As Terry wiped his hands on a worn towel, he nodded. Within the stall, the still-damp baby shook his head as his mother groomed him fondly.

Snow said, "He says they are fine. They look good to me. The baby has the biggest ears." Joe fondly squeezed her narrow shoulder. Behind Terry, Kennedy watched, avoiding interaction with both people and animals.

When she was seven, a horse at the fair had kicked through its stall to get at her, wide-eyed and blowing froth. Cowering under a vendor's trailer had been the only thing that had saved her. Even though she distrusted anything that looked equine, after last night, she wasn't letting Terry out of her sight. If they wanted to hurt him again, they were going to have to get through her.

"Good. I'm glad she is doing well." The small wobbly donkey staggered, finding its feet for the first time. "And you? How are you this morning, son?"

Kennedy cut Terry off before he could tell the old man he was fine. "He can't lift his arm for shit, but he kept all of his teeth." Snow winced at her curse word. Terry rose from his crouch as if the ability to stand proved something.

Joe asked, "Anything broken?"

Snow crossed her arms and described Terry's gestures before Kennedy could speak again. "Ribs. He held up three fingers. The left side is my guess, from the way he is standing."

"Young man, I suppose you are lucky we heal fast. Ten years ago, I could have fixed that arm for you, but I don't have the same skill I used to."

"Grandpa, that's not true."

"I've outlived all the people I grew up with, and I never felt a need to be or act any age besides the one I actually was. In life, when you lose a skill, you often gain another."

"She fixed Terry's palate. Why can't she fix this too?" Snow gestured to where Kennedy was sitting with her arms stubbornly crossed.

Joe chuckled, his laugh as soft and dry as a scatter of leaves. "Girl, by Shepherd standards, she is younger than you. When did you have your first change?"

"I was four."

"And how old do you think she is?"

"Thirty."

Kennedy gave a derisive snort. "I am not thirty."

Terry lifted his good hand to mask his smile.

Kennedy mock-kicked at him, intentionally missing. When the momma donkey stepped protectively toward her stall door, staring at Kennedy, she stopped.

"Terry, can we get out of this barn? She is staring at me."

Snow crossed her arms. "I think she should try to heal him."

After sweeping the hay from his jeans, Terry reached out a hand toward her. Keeping her eye on the donkey, she edged toward him and placed her hand in his. "And how would I try, Snow?" Kennedy frowned at the girl. "Don't you think I would have already helped him if I could?"

Joe tilted his head. "Do you want to? You've already stretched your ideas of reality in quite a few ways this week."

Terry's hand tightened around hers. "No."

"And why not? Do you think I can't do it?"

He shook his head, turned her away from him, and gave her a little push toward the open barn door. Joe started to say something, but Terry raised his hand. "No."