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She opened her mouth and then shut it, as if double thinking whatever she meant to say. “The goat?” she finally prompted.

She’d leave once she saw it. And that was what I had to want.

“It’s still alive. It hasn’t really moved much, but it isn’t making so many pained sounds. I think it slept.” I didn’t tell her that I’d come out in the night and covered it in a blanket when I felt the chill in the air. Or that I’d found Drev cuddled up next to it like two gladiators in the pit who’d been denied their blankets in punishment for some dreamed-up failure.

I led her across the yard and took her bag into the barn. Drev sat in the straw with the goat’s head propped against his thigh. He held a glass bottle of water wrapped in cloth and tipped a little against the goat’s mouth. The animal swallowed weakly.

Nakhil crouched on the other side with a bowl of stew cooling beside him, watching each swallow. Both males looked up when we entered. Drev pulled the bottle closer to his chest as if I might take it away.

The stall smelled of broth, straw, and animal. The blanket I’d put over the goat lay bunched near its hind legs.

“He drank half of this.” Drev held up the bottle, but he was addressing Teresa, not me. “Is that good?”

Teresa looked at the glass. “I don’t think it’s bad. What have you been doing?”

Drev gave a surprisingly exhaustive list that went far beyond sleeping beside the beast.

“Do you think he’ll make it?” he asked, and he sounded so young. Drev was the youngest of all of us. He’d barely entered service in the arena when we rebelled, but he’d been eager for the fighting, both for entertainment and our freedom. I’d taken him by the horns and been determined to keep him alive for the first year of his fighting. There were no guarantees after that.

When the Butchers had made our home out here, Drev had come with us without hesitation. But he was so eager now I had to wonder if he could have a real life in town. Did he want a wife some day?

Or was he angling for a pet goat?

“Both of you, out,” I said. “Don’t bother the doctor.”

“You’re a doctor?” Nakhil perked up. “I’ve got this weird itch⁠—”

“I’m not a doctor for humans.” Teresa was quick to say. Then she seemed to realize her mistake. “Or, uh… you should see Otho for any issues.”

“Out,” I insisted.

Drev kept hold of the bottle. “She said he needs water.”

“You can give him more later.” I pointed toward the aisle.

Nakhil stood but made no move toward the door. “You going to hold his hoof while the doctor works?”

I growled. Nakhil grinned and caught Drev by the arm, hauling him upright before I decided to help. Drev handed Teresa the bottle and let himself be pulled into the aisle.

“So you’re the one in charge around here?” she asked as she held up a small penlight and began to examine her patient.

“Absolutely not.” We didn’t need someone bossing us around, and I was no boss anyway.

“Hmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” She kept examining the goat and he bucked his back legs. I was about to reach over to hold him down, but she dodged out of the way and smiled. “That’s a good sign. He’s getting some energy back.”

“Drev will be happy.”

Teresa finished checking the goat’s gums and listened to his breathing with an instrument from her bag. Then she took a sharp-smelling soap and a clean cloth from her bag.

She handed me Drev’s bottle, and I poured water over her hands while she washed. She scrubbed dirt from the heel of one hand, dried them on the cloth, and glanced toward the dim light beyond the barn doors.

“Have you seen anything that might have made him sick? I know someone mentioned dead goats.” Her tone was a bit too light for my liking.

“Goats get sick.”