“Hey,” Dahlia said as she walked into the farmhouse.

“It looks like things were a little better today,” Harm said, smiling at his wife, who was carrying a string with three pheasants on it. He placed the cloth down on the table by the sink, which he had just finished cleaning up. “Kids are fed and in bed.”

“I had hoped to be back before they went to bed tonight,” Dahlia said, crestfallen, placing the pheasants on the table.

“They have not long since settled. Yonda was complaining of a bellyache again. Go see them,” Harm smiled.

“My stomach’s felt a little raw as well,” Dahlia grimaced.

It was strange how their roles had changed. Dahlia being out for as long as she was each day had meant that Harm had taken over many of the chores around the farmhouse. He picked the pheasants off the table and hung them on the racks on the porch that he had built just for the purpose. They were too high off the ground for most predators. Only a bear or similar animal could reach them.

Dahlia walked back from the kids’ room carrying a bundle. “Where did you get these?” she asked, putting the clothes on the table.

“I saw Larky when I was in town.”

“We can’t afford them.”

“They are paid for, don’t worry.”

“With what?”

Harm sighed. “He is holding onto Florence for me as a deposit.”

Dahlia’s eyes went wide in shock, and she spun to look at the rack by the fire, where Florence usually hung. In her place was a rusted, old-looking short sword, one that they had got from the goblins. “No. You didn’t?”

“I didn’t sell her,” Harm said, trying to calm Dahlia. “Call it a loan. I will pay him back, and when I do, I will get Florence back again.”

“But Harm,” Dahlia said, a tear welling in her eye. 

“It’s the only way I could afford Wes. I said I had it sorted.”

“You should have told me what you were planning on doing.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Worry me. We are married. We share our problems.”

“I know, but you have been so tired lately, and you are doing so much already. I just needed to take care of this.”

Dahlia walked up to him and hugged him tightly. “I wish you had said something.”

They stood in silence for several moments, holding onto each other, Harm stroking her hair gently. The warmth of her body against his was welcoming and pleasant. Harm spoke again. “Wes has given me some tonics for the herd. He isn’t sure exactly what is causing them to dry up.”

“If he isn’t sure, how does he know the tonics will work?”

“He doesn’t, but I had to try something.”

“How much did it cost?”

“Twenty silver.”

“Twenty silver!” Dahlia exclaimed, pushing back from Harm. “Twenty silver, and he isn’t sure what’s causing it.”

“What choice did I have? Spells would cost much more than that.”

“What did Larky give you for Florence?”

“Fifty-five.”

“At least that’s something. Maybe it’s time to consider getting new cows.”

“Where from? The only person near here is Dasir. Apart from that, it means travelling to the auction at Fallow, and you know how dangerous it can be bringing livestock back from there. Especially with the goblins.”

“If we have the money. It makes sense to do it now.”

“Let’s see how the treatment goes first. If it works, then there won’t be a need.” 

The following two weeks passed quietly. The herd appeared to improve from the tonic that Harm added to their feed, and the milk rate increased. Though not back to the previous level, Harm aimed to at least break even on feed costs. Wes had agreed to come and check on them once the tonic had run its course for free, and it was due today. Harm was leaning on the fence of the pasture where he had moved the herd near the barn. His foot was resting on the lower rung. Marius was swinging upside down on the fence, and Yonda was complaining about being bored, as usual.

“How’s your stomach now, Mar?” Harm asked.

“Not great still,” Marius said.

Dahlia and the kids had all been suffering from stomach aches recently. Thankfully, Harm had been unaffected. 

“May need to get you to see the cleric if things don’t improve,” Harm said.

“Naw, Mum says we’ll be fine,” Marius smiled.

Harm smiled back, turning to look back out over the pasture. He loved this time of the day. The morning chores were complete, and he had a brief respite before the afternoon slog would start in earnest.

Betty keeled over. Harm stared, wondering if what he had seen was real. She had been standing grazing and then collapsed onto her side. There was no sound; she just fell as though a giant had just pushed her over. Harm’s mouth was slightly open, the piece of grass he had been chewing on hanging loosely from his lip.

“Dad, can I get my bow?” Yonda asked, tugging on his trouser leg.

Harm didn’t even look at her. “Of course, dear,” he said, not paying attention. Betty was still lying on her side and wasn’t moving. Harm climbed over the fence, staring in disbelief at what he had just witnessed. Marius was still upside down on the fence, swinging, shouting after his sister, not looking into the field.

As Harm approached Betty, he noticed her stomach looked swollen.

“Betty. Come on, girl, on your feet,” he said, stepping nearer.

And then she exploded.

Harm was about thirty feet away when Betty’s body exploded as if it were a balloon. He automatically flinched, throwing his arm in front of his face, and turned sideways to protect himself from the flying debris. Harm lowered his arm, glancing back at what remained of her.

Marius, still upside down and shouting after his sister, fell silent at the wet, sickly popping sound. He righted himself, his eyes going wide. ‘Dad! What’s happened to Betty?”

Harm turned and looked at Marius. A shocked expression appeared on his face. He had been in range of the exploding corpse and looked like he had just finished battling a horde of goblins. Entrails and blood covered him.

“Stay back, son,” he called, feeling numb and uncertain. He had never seen or heard of anything like it before. 

Yonda came running back out from the farmhouse. “Marius. Marius. Can you come and move my targets for me?” she said as she ran over. That was when she saw Betty and Harm and screamed.

Yonda’s scream snapped Harm out of his trance-like state.

“Marius. Take Betty. I mean, Yonda, inside for me,” he said.

Marius was staring past his dad at Betty.

“NOW!” Harm yelled.

Marius snapped back from his frozen state and turned to look at Yonda. Saying nothing, he grabbed her arm and led her back to the farmhouse.

Harm turned back to Betty, or what remained of Betty, and cautiously moved forward. The remains were scattered over a wide area. Harm wasn’t squeamish. He had seen enough blood and guts in his time and lost enough companions when he adventured to be hardened to loss. That wasn’t the problem here. It was the complete unknown that was scaring him. How could a cow possibly explode?

The cow’s chest and stomach appeared to have exploded as if something had burst out. The stench was awful, and the remains reeked of something sickly sweet. He heard a cart on the track leading to the farm and glanced up, seeing Wes turning down the path.

“Wes,” he called, waving frantically to him.

Wes looked over, saw Harm, and pulled his cart up short, staring into the pasture. 

“What attacked?” Wes asked, looking around him. “Was it a bear?”

“Nothing. She just fell over, then... exploded,” Harm said after a pause.

“What?” Wes said as he climbed over the fence, walking towards Harm.

“Just that. She fell over and then exploded.”

The remainder of the herd had not noticed what had happened and was still happily grazing in the pasture. 

“That’s impossible,” Wes said.

“I know. I can’t explain it either. One minute, I was leaning on the fence watching them graze, and the next, she was like this.”

Wes bent over Betty’s remains, the same sickly sweet smell hitting his nostrils. “What’s that smell?” Wes said, holding his nose.

“You tell me. It’s awful.”

Wes pulled on some leather gloves and checked Betty. “There is something wrong with this. Have they eaten anything different?”

“No. I have strictly followed your advice. They have the boost feed I get from Satil with the tonic you left mixed in with it every morning. I thought things were getting better. Milk production had improved. I filled a whole urn this morning and planned to go to town this afternoon to sell it.”

“I have never seen anything like this,” Wes said, pulling a glove off and scratching his head. His face wore a confused expression.

A shiver ran down Harm’s back. If a druid didn’t know, then what hope did he have?

“I need to move the body. Poor Yonda saw it. I will grab the horse.”

It took Harm nearly an hour to remove Betty’s remains from the pasture with Wes’s support. He used his horse to pull the remains from the pasture and drop them into the large fire pit behind the barn. Harm lit the rubbish pile, and as thick clouds of black smoke rose into the air, he stepped back, staring at the burning remains.

“I will check on the others,” Wes said.

“Thanks, Wes.” Wes may charge high prices, but he loved all animals. It didn’t matter what they were. It could be the smallest mouse to the largest bear. If they were injured, he would always try to help. That was one of the reasons he had so many strays he had collected over the years.

Harm turned from the fire pit and walked back towards the farmhouse. “I am going to check on Yonda,” he called to Wes.

Wes raised his arm in acknowledgement as he stood next to Nelly, his palm resting on her shoulder, and his eyes closed. He was doing whatever he did as a druid. Before entering the farmhouse, Harm removed his blood-covered tunic and threw it on the porch. His trousers had dried stains on them now, but he wasn’t as bad as he had been when Betty had first exploded. He grabbed a cloth, wiping his face before going to the kids’ room.

Marius was in their bedroom with Yonda. She was sitting between his legs, and he held a book in front of her, reading it to her over her shoulder. Marius had been doing well with his reading and writing. Dahlia had always said that her kids could read and write. Many in the town struggled, and she taught both of them when she wasn’t hunting.

Harm felt his heart leap at the scene of his son teaching his daughter. He was a good lad. He knew Yonda wound him up, and they had different tastes, but he loved her and she, in her annoying way, loved and relied on him. The bed wasn’t very large, but he squeezed onto the edge, smiling at Marius. He put his arms out, taking them both in a hug.

“Dad. Let go, you smell,” Yonda complained.

Harm released them and lifted his arm, sniffing. She wasn’t wrong. “Thanks, son,” he said, ruffling his hair. He stood, leaving them to their reading, pulling the door closed as he left the room. As he walked out into the kitchen, the door to the farmhouse opened. Wes stood staring at him in shock. Dirt and grime covered his body from head to toe, even worse than Harm had been, but that wasn’t the issue. It was the blood that coated him.

“Another,” Wes stammered.

Harm ran past Wes to the pasture. There in the pasture lay the remains of Nelly.

By early evening, two more of the herd had fallen the same fate. Wes had tried everything he knew. He had even cast his spells to find out what was causing the problems and had been at a loss. Dahlia found the pair of them sitting, leaning against the fence to the pasture, looking distraught and broken when she arrived home. She had had a successful day, with a small deer resting over her shoulders, and had been looking forward to coming home to share her news with Harm when she had seen them.

“What’s wrong?” Dahlia asked, concerned.

“Four are gone,” Harm said in a flat tone.

“What do you mean, gone?” Dahlia asked.

Wes and Harm had not long since finished clearing the remains of the fourth before Dahlia had arrived. Thick clouds of smoke still rose from the firepit.

Wes looked at Dahlia, his eyes red, and his face drained. “In all my years, I have never seen anything like it. If I hadn’t witnessed it myself, I never would have believed it.”

“Believed what?” Dahlia asked, getting frustrated.

Harm snapped. “The herd, four of the herd are dead. They bloody exploded.”

Dahlia stood in open-mouthed shock for two reasons: the news about the herd and Harm losing his temper. Dahlia looked out into the pasture, seeing that there were only five cows.

“How?” she asked, dropping the deer’s remains to the ground.

“I don’t know,” Wes said, holding his head in his hands.

Harm just sat staring ahead, not even responding.

Dahlia wasn’t sure what to say and stood silently for several moments before she eventually spoke. “You can’t sit here all evening. Come inside, and I will sort out some food for you. Both of you.”

Wes looked up at Dahlia. “I’d better go. Tanya will be wondering where I am. Harm, I am so sorry. I will come back in the morning.”

Harm just nodded in response.

“Thank you, Wes,” Dahlia said, squeezing his hand once he had stood. He smiled weakly at her before he walked off to his cart. Dahlia scooped the deer back up. “Harm. Come on, dear. You can’t sit there all evening.”

Harm slowly got to his feet, and with his shoulders slumped and head drooped, he followed Dahlia back to the farmhouse. Dahlia hung the deer up and led Harm inside. The kitchen looked like it had exploded. There were dirty plates and mugs on the table. Harm collapsed heavily into a chair at the kitchen table, not speaking. Dahlia walked to the kids’ room and found both Marius and Yonda curled up on his bed. Yonda was asleep, leaning against her brother.

“Hi, Mum,” Marius said quietly.

“Hi, baby. Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.                       

“I’m fine. Yon was a little upset earlier, but I have kept her inside all day. We’ve eaten as well. Dad and Wes have been...you know, dealing with the thing.”

Dahlia couldn’t believe the maturity her son was showing. He was such a good boy. She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “I will make us our usual warm milk, if you would like some?”

“Yes, please.”

“Did I hear milk?” Yonda sleepily said.

“Yes, dear. I will bring it in when it’s ready,” she said as she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

After collecting a pail of milk from the urn, she brought it in and warmed it over the fire before pouring three mugs. There was no point in offering Harm a mug; he didn’t like milk, even though he spent his days producing it. Harm hadn’t moved since he had come in, and instead she poured him an ale, handing him his tankard. He took it from her without looking up. She would speak to him as soon as the kids were settled.

Carrying the three mugs into the bedroom, she sat with the kids, quietly chatting and drinking. When she got a milk moustache, Yonda laughed. Then, when Dahlia pretended to kiss her, she giggled. Giving them both a kiss goodnight, she tucked them in bed and left, blowing the candle out, making sure Yonda had Sully, her teddy bear, in her arms. She closed the door, leaving the children in the safe dark, and turned to face the silent, broken man at the kitchen table, and the terrifying unknown that waited for morning.