All she knows is a jumble of hooves, inarticulate, overburdened, so clumsy. And fire – it’s everywhere and painful. Why doesn’t matter. She’s frantic to put it out but, oh, it’s seering her something terrible and it won’t stop. The bayou is burning; the Cyprus blacken and curl their roots, screaming.
Please please…
All she can do is run, fall back over herself, tumble for safety as the world alights around her. The stench of sulfur is thick and cloying – she can hardly breathe around it and she’s starting to feel dizzy. But there’s the water. She jumps in with all four hooves and, ah, it’s cold but it’s a welcome alternative to burning to a crisp. There’s smoke on the water; it’s either choke above or drown below, sinking.
Down down…