Ashley leaves the park with a horse and rider in tow-- and a promise. 

I don’t quite understand why you want to stay, dearie. But I won’t push you. Think about it and I’ll stop by for your answer. I’ll give you three days.

Those were Lily’s last words to her after hours of answering questions with patience and a gentle smile. Such as: Yes, it is normal to drink animal blood. There are small differences between species but the older vampire found all of them perfectly bland. Yes, you’ll live as long as you can stay out of trouble-- Lily glared behind her when she said those words, before briskly stating she didn’t expect Ashley to have much trouble with that. Though Ashley will lose that beautiful raven color in her hair and probably become pale as snow. 

Lily couldn’t answer more scientific inquiries but she knew people who could, if the vet was truly interested. She travelled constantly to see new sights as they were added to the world by architects and artists and to visit her absurdly large family. Not all of that family was truly related to her, though it took little effort for the affectionate, rather motherly woman to take a shine to someone. In her own words: I can’t help myself. I don’t like to see lonely people.

With the horse’s reigns in hand, Ashley leads Dan up to the earthen parking lot. The other horse trailer is now gone, leaving only one option for Hailey’s car. Its a worn down, outdated model of SUV, attached to a similarly battered and mud-spattered trailer. Only a few things left to do now. 

“Hailey,” She looks up and meets that blank stare once more. Dan really was a good horse, to keep such a gentle pace that the girl remained in her saddle the whole time. “I need you to step down, if you can.” 

Slowly, the hiker turns until she’s sitting sidesaddle, and uses the stirrup as a step to literally step off of the saddle. She stands quietly, taking shallow breaths.

Right. She needs to be careful with specifics. Ashley concentrates, and her words are more forceful this time, to make sure they stick despite her contacts: “You didn’t have a spare bottle full of water. You forgot to fill the bottle; it was empty. We ran out of water. You became very dehydrated. You had difficulty concentrating, but all we did was walk. You stayed on Dan and we walked for hours.” She keeps her sentences short and clear, focusing on the memories now linked between them. Filling that blank space with dappled sunlight, the crunch of gravel underfoot, the earthy dust swirled by the breeze. Taking out the cold fear, hammering heartbeat and silent scream just before. That was the easy part, give and take. To make something up-- her eyes take on a soft red glow as she grits her teeth. “I gave you some water when we got back to our cars. I told you to wait until your head cleared and then go home.” She places a half-full water bottle in one of Hailey’s hands and Dan’s reigns in the other. “You’re going to wake up in five minutes and know all of this is true.” 

There. Ashley reaches into her back pocket and takes out the keys to her pickup truck. Time to go.

.... 

Hours later, sitting at home, Ashley reaches into her pocket as her phone buzzes, reads, and breathes a sigh of relief. It’s from Ollie, the secretary for a summer and pre-vet student babied by most of the clinic. 

Hailey Johnson just called. She wanted to thank you for the rescue. Even when I told her you’d gone home she talked my ear off for a good five minutes. Seems like a good kid though.

With a smile, Ashley writes a reply: Thanks for letting me know. She is sweet and maybe a year younger than you? She purses her lips, considering, and takes out that last part. Completely unnecessary.

There’s nothing left to do today. Time will pass rather slowly if she just sits here, waiting for the next catastrophe. She stares at the walls of her living room but no thoughts pass through her head. Then she remembers-- she still wants to make something sweet for Harrison. The seasoned veterinary surgeon was being more of a grouch than usual after his encounter with a particularly rabid cat lady.

She walks into her kitchen, turning on a light for the first time. She doesn’t really need them anymore. However, with the flick of a switch, a few strategically placed recessed lights illuminate the space. All of the painted white cabinets are closed. The exact neatness of the polished granite belies its frequent use; constant scrubbing keeps even the electric stovetop pristine. The only signs of life sit next to the sink, an orderly row of teacups placed on the drying rack. Opening a small pantry, her hand wanders purposefully over a row of cookbooks. A particular blue-bound volume dedicated to baking catches her eye. Recetas dulces y faciles. Her eyes linger on the inside cover, on the inscription written there in elegant, swirling cursive. Then she flips to the cookies section-- el capítulo de galletas.

She settles for a favorite: simple, dark chocolate cookies. The page for the recipe is splattered with the light brown of vanilla, ingrained with flour, and the corner is absolutely caked in ancient batter. Two handwritings modify the measurements-- one, cursive and a bit sloppy; the other, narrow and neat. Placing the book on the counter, Ashley opens a refrigerator filled with ingredients, but no meals, and sets to work. With something to focus on- something significantly less stressful than the day she just had- she can finally feel a calm, orderly sense of peace.

… 

“Easy there big guy. Almost done.” Ashley pats the flank of a longhorn bull, Norris, making sure the animal knows exactly where she is as she finishes the poking and prodding of a physical examination. Norris is an unusual specimen, not only in his tremendous girth but also in his temperament. The pride and joy of his owners from the day he was born, he’d been coddled ever since. The constant handling and care had given him the calmest disposition of any cattle she’d ever seen. Still, he has several hundred more pounds of muscle than she does, a crucial fact she keeps ever-present in her mind. Ducking under the wide, spear-like horns, careful to never quite turn her back to the animal, she brings her report to the farmer watching her.

“He’s looking great Colton. Not a single issue; good reflexes, healthy heart, lungs, and his weight-- twenty-five hundred pounds. Damn.” She shakes her head, still amazed after seeing the numbers herself. “You’re bringing him to the county fair, right?” 

Absolutely. ‘Bout time, too.” Colton nods and shakes her hand, “Thanks for the checkup. I didn’t think he’d need it, but-- I really wanna win this year.”

“Of course. You’ve got a good chance with this one.” She smiles earnestly, mostly from her eyes. “I’ll send the charge to your usual account, right?”

“Right. Thank you kindly Doc.”

She picks up her medical bag, quickly checks to make sure she hasn’t left a stethoscope lying around or something silly, and with a final nod steps out of the barn. The field outside is a green and yellow patchwork of short-cropped grass that need of a good rain. She walks along, reaching the rustic single-story and driveway at the beginning of Colton’s property after a few minutes. 

...

Ashley pauses briefly to let glass double-doors slide open, then steps into the lobby of her vet clinic. She lets out a long sigh as artificially cooled air blasts past her . The breath does nothing for her physical health but the motion still brings a sense of relief.

“Isn’t that a bit premature? You still have three appointments today.” Ollie quips from behind the lobby’s central desk. 

“At least they’re all inside. It’s baking out there, as usual.” She responds dryly. Her boots echo a bit off of the linoleum tiles, catching the attention of a pitbull pup and german shepard sitting next to their owners’ chairs. The only other animal waiting for service yowls from the dark recesses of its carrier-- so, not busy at the moment.

“But we don’t charge an arm and a leg for in-house appointments. Only an arm.” He keeps a joking tone of voice, smirking after what he believes to be a clever remark.

She puts a hand on the desk, leaning across into conspiratorial distance. “Be careful who can hear you, saying things like that.” She glances around the lobby before continuing, just to add to the effect. “It won’t seem so much when you’re practicing and paying for vet school.” 

“Sorry.” He gives her a sheepish, apologetic grin. Ashley shakes her head and starts back to her office.

“Hello, this is-- ma’m, please slow down.” 

She pauses, hearing the tremor of worry in his voice as Ollie responds to a call. The boy still didn’t have a lot of practice with those-- calls that mattered, not the mundane ones like rescheduling appointments. She checks the time on the lobby’s large clock: fifteen minutes until her next appointment. Alright. Ashley resolves to come back and supervise, advize if she can, just as soon as she’s returned her supplies to her office. 

He seems to be doing well as she walks back into the lobby. "Yes, bring the dog here as soon as you find him. Dr. Firenze will be able to see her as soon as you arrive." 

Firenze? That must be his 4:00 space. And he was so excited to have a lunch break.

Ollie speaks evenly, "Oh, you found her? That's wonder--" His face turns ghostly pale the moment the call cuts off. He shoves the phone back into place, staring at it for a moment. His voice is hushed as he says words only Ashley can hear: "Her son was screaming." 

She looks at Ollie, all of the careless happiness from moments before now gone. In his single summer he had seen some tragic things taken in- and out- of the clinic. But there’s something about a phone call-- about being able to give only words to the other side.

“"Suzy,” She catches the attention of the full-time secretary, who finally looks up from her riveting calendar management. “I'll try to have him back in ten minutes." With a few encouraging hand waves, Ashley coaxes Ollie away from the desk. 

They begin to walk down the hallway, but she pauses at one of the office doors, knocking loudly. A girl opens the door while her mother and another veterinarian hold on to a squirming cat. “Sorry to interrupt: Dr. Firenze, you now have a 4:00. Please be ready for it as soon as you can.” 

It still felt a little strange whenever she had to use his title. He’d always been Jay, since she found the fellow Spanish-speaker muttering curses over his physiology textbook in the college library. She’d messed up so many times when they started working here. 

“Got it. Thank you. Goodbye.” He doesn’t have time to be polite as the raging furball yowls and swipes its paws wildly. That looks like so much fun. She can’t hide a small smirk as she closes the door.  

Ashley and Ollie continue down the hall, reaching the staff lounge at the very back. It’s fortunately empty, and they sit across from one another at a small plastic table.

“Don’t focus on the unknown. What do you know? What was her name?” She starts with a breakdown of events.

“Um, Daisy.” Ollie stares at his hands, loosely folded in front of him. 

Well, it was on her for not being specific. “What was the woman’s name?”

“Mary. Mary Williams.”

The Williams family-- the name is instantly familiar. They were a regular sight at the clinic; their cocker spaniel is at three serious foxtail removals and counting and their calico cat has many admirers during her checkups. She continues: “What was the issue? Be concise.”

“She was asking me about rat poison. She wanted to know what rat poison could do to a dog.” His voice starts to tremble again, “I didn’t know what to tell her.” 

For Oliver, the room is dead quiet in contrast to his crashing thoughts. For Ashley, the room is filled with little noises-- the whir of the cooling fans in the ceiling; a quiet drip of almost-finished coffee on the counter behind them; and in front of her, a change of pace in the soft alternating rhythm of Ollie’s heartbeat. 

She blinks, realizing that one second of silence was actually three. Focus, dammit. She leans onto the table, crossing her arms. “But you told her to come to the clinic?”

“Yes, as soon as possible. And I checked who has an opening.” He doesn’t sound satisfied with his answer. 

“Then you did your part. Whatever happens now, happens.” She explains calmly.

“But what if-- I could have--” He doesn’t know enough to come up with a suggestion, a confused helplessness in his eyes.

“Oliver. Let me tell you something:” Ashley waits for him to calm enough to give her his full attention, her voice completely serious. “Even when you know what’s wrong, you can’t always save them. There’s too much outside of your control. That call was outside of your control.” She gives a long sigh, tightening the grip on her folded arms. "Ask yourself, can you handle this? Or are calls like that going to haunt you so much you can't focus on the ones you can save?"

He doesn’t answer. His panic has turned into something somber, something quieter and more controlled.

"You don't have to know today." She tells him softly. It’s clearly a last remark and he stands.

“Thank you.” He murmurs, hand on the door.

“If you want a hug, go find Jay. But if you ever need a speech, you come find me.” She gives him one last piece of advice. 

The ghost of a smile crosses his face and then he’s gone.

She uncrosses her arms. God, that was too close. I need a drink.

But first she listens, making sure Ollie’s footsteps are the only ones she can hear in the hall. Then Ashley walks over to the miniature fridge fought over by the entire clinic. She opens the door, peers inside and moves over a half-empty container of microwaveable soup. Behind that is a metal canteen with a note attached:

Carrot Juice

Paws Off

-- Ashley

Unlike her chocolate cookies and other gifted sweets, which disappear within minutes, no one is brave enough to touch her drinks. Ashley uncaps the flask, listening one more time to her surroundings before taking a swig of something rather unlike the concentrated dirt it masquerades to be. 

She shudders as the cold liquid goes down her throat, barely tasting it. What she does catch is metallic and bitter. She almost gasps as a feeling like being drenched in ice water washes over her. Ashley takes another drink and shivers again as a lesser wave crashes into her. Something is missing, that can’t be found in dog’s blood or cat’s or any other kind she’s tried. She’ll feel better, in a few minutes, but at the moment all of her senses are razor sharp, ready to hunt. 

She returns the canteen to the fridge, moving it to an inconspicuous spot behind someone’s plastic-wrapped pizza. Then she sits slowly at the table, wincing slightly as her chair squeaks forward. She takes out her phone and sets a timer for five minutes. Finally, she forces herself to take deep breaths, one after the other, focusing on the sound of inhale and exhale.