Chapter 20

She flunked the Hippotherapy exam. Well, not technically, but her miserable marks had forced her to endure a stern talk from Professor Finnegan during office hours about the privilege of attending Stargate Equestrian and their zero-tolerance policy for mediocrity, even for scholarship students. Miss Nelson had been there too, warning Cellie that she could be sidelined if her grades didn't improve.

In that moment, she regretted not accepting Diana's offer to share her study guide. The other girl had aced the test; Cellie knew because she had seen the perfect mark under her paper when Professor Finnegan handed them back. Diana's Google Drive likely held a treasure trove of valuable information for their assignments. Cellie needed to ask for it later, even if it meant admitting she'd bombed the test and facing Diana's reaction to her earlier refusal of help.

With hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, Cellie wandered across campus. It was dark and late; sleep eluded her, replaced by an insistent urge to visit her pony. Chariot's presence always comforted her. The mare's joyous welcome and goofy antics, all for a pepper-mint, never failed to make Cellie laugh. She could hug Chariot as long as she wanted without the awkwardness she'd felt when hugging Charlotte too long, prompting an uncomfortable escape with an "Okay, Cellie..."

Chariot didn't mind being draped over; she'd be perfectly happy.

The barn grounds were enveloped in silence, save for the night-turnout horses snorting as they grazed. Cellie's sneakers echoed off the cobblestones while she kicked pebbles aimlessly. The moon cast eerie shadows from buildings and fences, with rustling leaves above adding an occasional breeze-induced symphony. Hunching further into her jacket, Cellie slipped into the barn illuminated by a lone light near the tack room. The stone walls felt chillier than outside; she wished she'd worn pants instead of sleep shorts.

Making a beeline for Chariot's stall, Cellie peered through the bars. Her pony sensed her approach despite happily munching on hay and turned to nuzzle Cellie's offered hand with a quiet nicker.

Cellie chuckled as she unlatched the stall door and stepped inside with her small mare. "Hey, pretty lady," she murmured softly, affectionately ruffling Chariot's forelock before planting a gentle kiss between her nostrils. "No peppermints right now, sorry, girl."

Chariot went ahead and nudged her nostrils against the pockets of Cellie's shorts, snuffling at the fabric. Cellie stepped forward, hugging the mare's soft neck and leaning in close. She ran her hand over Chariot's back and shoulder, scratching at a small white spot on her withers. The mare didn't move but instead pressed back into Cellie, checking the back pockets when the front ones yielded nothing.

"You're such a goof," Cellie murmured into her mane. She inhaled deeply, taking in the earthy scent of horse mixed with dirt, hay, and a hint of citronella. It was only when she was with Chariot that she could forget school and life's stresses, sinking into a world just for them.

But these moments never lasted forever. They couldn't.

After a while, Cellie pulled away, stroking Chariot's neck and picking at a speck of dirt before stepping back. "See you tomorrow, Chariot," she said, giving the still-treat-seeking muzzle an affectionate pinch before slipping out of the stall and securing the latch. It was late—much later than reasonable—and Cellie had an 8 a.m. class. She sighed at the thought of how little sleep she would get and made her way through the barn, peering at the other horses as she walked by.

She paused at Beatrix's stall.

Slipping her hands into her pockets, she stood on tiptoe to peer inside. The large bay mare lay stretched out on cedar and straw, lips twitching as if dreaming. Adorable. Cellie smiled but began to walk away until she heard a groan.

It came from Beatrix's stall.

She backed up quickly, eyebrows knitting together as she squinted inside. Beatrix had sat up slightly but something seemed off. Her brown eyes looked distant; nostrils flared too wide for comfort or sleep. As Cellie watched, Beatrix craned her neck to nibble at her side with a dramatic huff followed by another quiet groan piercing through the night's silence.

Damn it.

Cellie crossed the aisle and flipped on the overhead light. In better lighting, she noticed sweat covering Beatrix's neck and her labored breathing. No doubt about it—something was wrong. From prior experience, Cellie knew exactly what it was.

She quickly grabbed her phone and called Miss Nelson.

No answer.

She didn't have any other coaches' numbers but remembered that each stall had emergency contact information—as per Stargate Equestrian safety rules—and found what she needed. She dialed immediately.

A sleepy voice answered after a few rings.

"Hello?"

Cellie took a deep breath, rolling her tongue over her bottom lip while glancing at Beatrix in distress, then said urgently, "Diana, you need to get to the barn now."