It all started the day Chesca sat on a bale of hay in the barn sniffing and lamenting the death of Pig Senior. Malley, their champion of stallions and leader of horses for miles around took a few steps toward her and stood so near she could touch him, and she did. She put her hand out and touched his silky nose, something she had never done before. The light fell on the threads of gold that ran through his chestnut coat. She remembered how her heart beat like a drum and the warmth of his breath and the glimpse of a spark in his eye, and she did not feel afraid by his size or his mighty energy. She felt a soft breeze embrace her even though it was December. She thought she heard the word calm. She continued staring deep into his eyes, knowing something had changed, shifted, something magical was happening.

Then it happened. Polly, her black and white dog, laid her head on Chesca’s knee and whimpered, “I’ll miss Pig Senior, too.”

Chesca said calmly, as if it was a very normal thing to hear your dog talking to you, “I know you will, Polly,” and they put their heads together and cried some more.

That was the very first time Chesca heard any animal talk.

They might neigh, or grunt or bark or bleat, but she understood every word.