Chapter Three
Ivy woke abruptly. Darkness surrounded her. Her straining ears heard only silence. No soft breathing from her sisters. No snorts from the dogs. Am I alone in the cottage?
A sound cut the air, a breathy, agonized gasp, almost a scream.
Ivy sat bolt upright. Memory returned in a fierce flood: the roebuck.
“I’m coming,” she cried, fumbling for her crutch. “I’m coming!”
The fire had died down to a bed of embers, casting a warm glow. The roebuck writhed on the hearth. His long neck arched back, his slender sharp-hooved legs kicked out, the gasping scream came again, torn from his throat. Was he convulsing? Dying?
Ivy hurried to him, avoiding the flailing legs. She couldn’t kneel, so she flung herself down on the rushes behind him. “Roebuck!” she cried, reaching for him. Bene
