The Wheel of Fortune

---

Nastasya was numb. With shock, anger and disbelief. Only a couple of hours earlier she had been planning her and Sweeney's competition campaign in the run up to the next Olympics. Now, here she was nodding automatically as Henry the vet explained the consequences of her stallion's injury.

"He's been very lucky in some respects. Although the wound is deep, it's clean, and I'm hopeful we won't have any problems with infection. Especially as it sounds like you found him pretty quickly after it happened. There is considerable muscle damage I'm afraid, but I think in time he'll be sound enough."

Nastasya suddenly seemed back in the present, instead of in some distant place.

"Sound enough. What exactly do you mean? Sound enough to do what?"

Henry bit his lip and took a deep breath. All too often as a vet he felt like the harbinger of doom, and it was even tougher with Nastasya. For one she was incredibly intimidating despite her small size, and Henry also knew however tough she appeared the news he had could only be devastating. 
"Well, I think eventually he'll be able to do some flatwork, dressage, light hacking, that sort of thing. Though there's the possibility he will always have a limp or uneven stride."

"No jumping? No hunting, or cross country or steeplechases." The woman's face was deadpan, as if she didn't even care or already knew the answer.

"Look, you can never say never, but in this case it would practically be a miracle if it healed that well. In any case he'll be on long term box rest, 6 months at least I think. 3 or 4 of those we'll have him in a hoist so he's not bearing any weight on it. Then maybe we'll see about leading him out to graze for a few minutes each day, but it all depends on him."

Nastasya nodded, mute. She let herself back into Sweeney's stable. He stood immobile, his leg cocooned in bandages with just the tip of the hoof resting on the floor. His eyes were dull with pain, his head low. She crouched down slightly and took his large head in her arms, leaning her cheek on his brow. He sighed.

She whispered to him in Russian, one salty droplet leaking from the corner of her eye, sliding down her cheek before it landed on the Obertaurer's white nose.

"You stupid clumsy brute. What am I meant to do with you now? How did you do this to yourself? After all the times you've saved us both out hunting, how have you crippled yourself in the field you've had since I brought you here?!"

The stallion nudged her. It was an answer she could never understand.

---

Poor Sweeney  

This was originally a two panel piece, the second showing him in his stable in the sling, but I got fed up of trying to colour it so I took it out.

For now, Sweeney will be in semi retirement, and I guess we'll see how well he heals up.
At least Nastasya has Domowina to keep her going.


art, story and characters (c)
Sweeney's design (c)
Obertaurer (c)