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Something already rolled over its head. What a terrible tragedy. My hand’s still pressed against my chest as my heart tries to recover.

“Not a fan of snakes?” Alexei asks.

“Is anyone?” I shudder.

He shrugs. “I don’t love them, but I don’t hate them either. They eat rats, and I like rats less than snakes.”

“Gross.” I slide into the car and scooch over. Alexei hops up after me.

“You’re just biased because of Lucy.” Kris closes the door behind her with a loud thunk.

“Who’s Lucy?” Alexei and Aleksandr ask at the same time.

“She was one of Adriana’s favorite mares when we were kids.”

“That snake killed her,” I say.

“A snake killed a horse?” Aleks looks unconvinced.

“I mean, not exactly.”

“What happened?” Alexei asks.

“So, one night, we were putting the horses away. It was getting colder, and we were moving to the winter routine.” I still get upset thinking about this.

“And?” Aleks asks.

“Well,” Mirdza says. “Adriana was, what? Ten?”

“Yep.”

“And she put Lucy in her stall with no problems.” Kristiana tightens her hand on the armrest until her knuckles are white. “But then we heard screaming. That mare was always so calm, but she flipped.”

“The snake bit her leg,” I say. “It had been hiding in the shavings, ready to sleep.”

“Leg wounds are never great for horses,” Kristiana says. “But that one was nasty.”

“Even so, she got over that,” I say. “Proudflesh removal, and bandages, and all kinds of misery later, she eventually recovered.”

“But she wouldn’t go back in the stall after that, so we let her stay in that small pasture behind the barn instead.” Kris shakes her head. “Mom thought that after a few weeks, when it really got cold, she’d calm down.”

“She never did,” I say. “She was convinced that going into that stall would kill her.” It actually makes me chuckle a little, thinking about how irrational she got.

“A year and change later, her leg was fine, but we had that horrible cold spell.” Kris looks as sad as I feel.

“We decided she had to go inside. We thought she’d fling herself around a little and then get over it.”

“She didn’t,” Kris says. “She flipped out and flipped out, whamming against the stall, flinging herself against it, until she hit the waterer wrong and. . .” Kris closes her eyes.

“We had to put her down,” I say. “It was really, really sad. We should’ve just let her stay out in that pasture with double blankets.”

“Or maybe you should’ve worked with her on going into the stall more,” Alexei says. “Sometimes horses, people, whatever, they think something that’s good is bad. You have to be patient and take small steps until they realize it’s not what they think.”

“My mom had died by then,” Kris says. “I think we were all unsure what to do. Plus, we were all scared of our own stuff, just like her with the stall. We were all trying to just get over it, too.”

“It’s hard to help others when you’re hurting yourself,” Alexei says. “You shouldn’t feel guilty. I didn’t mean that at all.”

I can’t help thinking about Lucy the rest of the way home. Obviously I’m not a horse. I’m not keen on snakes, but I don’t freak out about walking into a stall because I saw one there once.