At first light, we hear a howling yowling dogcat hullabaloo coming from the horses’ paddock. Through my binoculars (cowardly husband me), I watch you stride through the snow in wellies, into silence deep as a subterranean cavern.
The horses stand freeze-framed and mid-chomp at their trough. There’s a trail of green on the snow’s surface, accompanied by the footprints of a three-legged creature. You follow the trail into the bushes.
Inside, over a cup of tea, you say nothing. There’s a mute look to your eyes, too. Later, I find a discarded plaster in the bathroom, soaked in green blood.