Eleven
COME ON NOW, just a bit more.” Morgan tried to coax the foal into swallowing more of his potion. The poor animal was so weak it could barely lift its head to swallow.
“Have you given him milk?”
Morgan twisted around from his seat on the floor of the stall. His cousin, Kat, stood just at the door, watching him.
Relaxing a bit, he turned back to the foal. “He’s too weak to stand on his own to nurse.”
Kat came over and squatted down next to Morgan and the animal. Looking deeply into the foal’s moist brown eyes, she stroked his head and then said, “He’s hungry and he yearns for his mother’s comfort.”
Morgan nodded sadly. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, getting up and retrieving a small pail. He then stroked the doe’s nuzzle and told her, “I need your milk for your foal.”
The doe m
