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My farm. The one currently shrouded in a horrible orange blaze.

THIRTY-TWO

STERLING

Some humans wear their emotions on their faces, worn into every crease and line, every subtle shift of their lips and movements of their eyes. I see a lifetime of emotions play out on my mate’s face. From disbelief to horror to despair. The sound that leaves him tears at my heart. Half wail, half scream as he pushes to his feet and runs, sand kicking up around him.

“Caspian.” I grab him around the waist before he can leave the beach. “Stop.”

“No. No. No. No,” he cries, scratching at my arms. “Let me go.”

“You can’t go up there.”

Smoke billows from the burning farmhouse, the entire structure engulfed in red hot flames that stretch high into the sky.

“We can’t just stand here and let it burn!” He kicks at my legs, but I don’t let go. There’s nothing we can do. Whoever set that fire wanted it to burn hot and fast, and they’ve succeeded.

Caspian clings to me with one hand while dropping the other to his pocket, pulling out his phone. His hand shakes as he presses numbers on the screen before bringing it to his ear. The emergency operator answers, her voice calm and reassuring on the other end of the line as Caspian relays the situation with a sad, shaky voice and she tells him what to do. Once the call is over, he drops his phone to the ground, then turns in my arms, eyes wet and pleading.

“We have to save the animals. If that fire spreads to the barn…” Tears fall in gentle cascades down his cheeks. “Applesauce and Rhubarb. My sheep.” He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again. “I can’t leave them. Please.”

“Caspian. It’s not safe.” I hold him a little tighter. “Let’s wait here for the fire department.”

“Oh God, what if Bagel was inside?” He ignores me, his tears flowing harder, his voice rising as he bats angrily at my chest. “Let me go. Stop touching me!” He points up the hill to where the farmhouse stands, bright red and yellow against a dark sky. Embers break off, floating up like fireflies. “That’s my home, Sterling. My animals will be scared.” He looks over his shoulder briefly before levelling me with that prickly Caspian glare I love, only this time there’s heartbreak there, too.

“Isn’t that why you’re here? Aren’t you the big mythical creature born to protect this land?” He pokes me in the chest. “Then why aren’t you doing it? Stop standing around and watching my world burn!” He shakes his head, eyes dropping to the hand that’s now digging into my chest. “If you won’t save them, then I will.”

I relent, my grip on him loosening. I can’t let those animals die. I can’t let him down again. I know he didn’t mean for his words to sting, but they do because they’re a reminder that I failed him once before and I’m at risk of doing it again.

Hands on his cheeks, I tip his face to mine. “Okay. But stay close to me and do not go running inside any burning structures. I am not fireproof, my human, but if you go inside, I will follow you and it will be the end of both of us.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

I drop my arms and point to my clothing.

“Carry those up for me, please. When the fire brigade arrives, I can’t be looking like this.” Caspian scoops up my trousers, shirt, and shoes, and then we run up the hill, past the lighthouse, and over to the barn. The sheep are bleating, panic rising in the air, but for the time being, the barn is unscathed. Caspian opens the doors, and I run inside and usher them out. Rhubarb and Applesauce too. I stay behind them, encouraging them down the hill towards the beach, far from the flames. They go without hesitation, the heat of the blaze and the monster at their back all the warning they need to get far away.

With the sheep and goats safely on the beach, I turn and race back up the hill. Caspian is standing with his back against the barn wall, eyes locked on the inferno in front of him. We’re far enough away that the flames can’t hurt us, but the heat radiating in our direction is immense. Noise fills the air – crackling flames, snapping timber, shattering glass and a high-pitched squeal of metal as it warps. It grows in intensity as the flames swallow the farmhouse. Caspian covers his ears and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Make it stop. Make it stop,” he cries, hands pressing hard to the side of his head.

My clothing sits in a heap next to his feet, so I shift and get dressed, then pull him into my arms, burying his head against my chest. There’s a tremble in his body, and his tears quickly soak into my shirt. As the surrounding air thickens with smoke, I lift him up and carry him further from the blaze, stopping at the entrance to the lighthouse.

It feels like the time stands still as we wait for the fire brigade to arrive. Given the farm’s desolate location, it takes a while before the shrill sound of a siren can be heard over the roaring flames. The chaos that follows has sobs ripping from my mate’s chest and I hold him tighter in the hopes I can stop him from falling apart. His heart beats out of rhythm and I feel it in my chest, aching in a way I fear I may never fix.

A man in full gear heads over to us, checking if we need any medical assistance. I shake my head, explaining that we were not in the house when the fire started. And then I watch as they work together, rushing around the burning building, shouting directions to each other until the flames die down and all that’s left is a smokey pile of ash and the broken foundation of my mate’s home. A police officer cordons off a perimeter around the remains and then comes to speak to Caspian. She explains that there will be an investigation, but right now they suspect it resulted from faulty wiring. I don’t believe that – I’m certain there is something else at play here, and I’ll make sure whoever it was pays for what they’ve done. Caspian takes the officer’s card, stuffing it into the pocket of his trousers, then slides back into my arms and rests his head on my chest, his full weight leaning against me.

“I’ve got you,” I whisper into his ear as the officer leaves and a lady in a paramedic’s uniform comes up to us, her smile gentle and her eyes kind.

“Do you have somewhere you can stay?” she asks. Caspian lifts his head from my chest, his mouth opening to answer but the words get caught on a sob.

“Yes.” I gesture to the lighthouse behind us. “We can stay here.”

“Okay,” she answers. “And you’re sure you don’t need me to check either of you over?” I look at my mate, whose gaze has drifted to the place his house once stood. His skin is pale, a grey pallor to it.

“No. Thank you. I’ll take him inside.”

“Get him to rest. And keep him warm. He may be in shock.”