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“Loreda, help me carry these trays to the root cellar,” Mom said

Grandma wiped her hands on her apron and headed back to the house

Loreda knew that as soon as the cauldron was cool they’d have to roll it back to the barn, and the thought of it rabbed a tray full of unset soap and followed her mother down into the dark, relative cool of the root cellar

Empty shelves

After years without a wheat harvest oron the bounty of better years, but those supplies were going fast

She and Moed a look, but neither of the out their lack of food supplies

Loreda followed Molass of water when she heard a strange sound She stopped, listened “Do you hear that?”

It was co from the barn

Moiant sweep of creaking wood

Loreda followed her inside

Milo lay on his side, his sunken belly wheezing up and down as he tried to breathe Dirty round

Grandpa knelt beside the horse, stroking his damp neck

“What’s wrong with him?” Loreda asked

“He collapsed,” Grandpa said “I was leading him out of his stall to water”

“Go to the house, Loreda,” Mo stool toward him, and sat down She placed a hand on his shoulder