The first cry came just after midnight, thin and sharp under the rain on the barn roof. Daphne Merritt stood in the straw with both hands over her mouth, watching the wet foal blink beside Willow, the rescue mare she had nursed for months.
Dr. Ethan Okafor had been calm through the birth, checking Willow’s pulse, clearing the foal’s nose, and giving short, careful instructions. Then the foal kicked weakly, and Daphne saw enough to know he was a colt. Relief broke through her chest. Willow had made it. The colt had made it.
Then Dr. Okafor stopped smiling. His eyes fixed on Willow’s belly as another hard ripple moved across her side. The mare strained again, though the colt was already lying in the straw. Daphne wiped her cheeks. “Is that normal?” He touched Willow’s neck, then checked her gums. His face changed only a little, but Daphne saw it. The farmhand reached for a towel to wrap the colt. “Leave him where he is,” Dr. Okafor said. Willow pushed again, harder this time. Daphne felt the relief leave her body completely. The stall went quiet. Then the vet stood and said, “Oh, God! That doesn’t look good…”