Winning Prompt!​

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Write about how you would make her feel a little less lonely when you bring her home.

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The drive home was heartbreaking. Truly.
Even with the radio at a normal volume, I could hear her cries. “I’m alone in here!” She seemed to call, “And it’s scary!” And, during the journey, it continued.
“It’s dark in here!”
“Where are you taking me?”
Each whinny seemed to be louder than the last, more desperate, more fearful. And I felt terrible for it.

I made sure to smother her with love when we arrived, giving scratches to her favourite spots and giving plenty of treats. That first night, I fell asleep in the stable, because every time I tried to leave, those haunting whinnies would start again, and the guilt of forcing her through the whole journey forced me to stay. I slept on the soft hay, her gentle head in my lap, her soft breaths lulling me into the depths of sleep.
The next day, she followed me the entire day, from the moment that I first fed the other horses to the moment I stopped for the day. Like an invisible leadrope tying her muzzle to my elbow, she followed with rarely a meter to spare. When I was leading the other horses to pasture, she followed. When I was filling feedbuckets, she followed. And, when I brought her back to her stall in the evening, she followed. When I tried to shut the door, she tried to follow me back out, and the expression I received when I bolted the door hurt my heart.
“You can’t come back to my house!” I tried to explain, but the large, sad eyes continued. “And I can’t stay here another night. We need to rest, and I’ll see you in the morning.” Stroking her nose, I turned to leave, and as soon as I shut the barn door, the whinnying started again. Solemn and sad, the calls were quickly accompanied by a banging of her stall door.
Sighing deeply, I crept through the barn door, and, as soon as she spotted me, her calls were replaced by giddy whickers, urging me over. “We can’t keep doing this.” I murmured, earning only a cheery whinny in response. Sighing, I loosed the latch of her stall, allowing her to let herself out of the stall. She nosed through, and, within seconds, was at my side again. Turning, I went to the tackroom, hoping to find a blanket or something that might comfort her.
Of course, she followed, but as I walked into the room, I heard her hoofsteps stop. Turning, I saw that she was fascinated by something high on a shelf. Standing on my tiptoes, I spotted what she was looking for. Tucked away, forgotten about, was a small teddy bear, left behind by a young visitor to the barn one day. The cheesy toy, deep brown and with a little pink heart, was covered in a light layer of dust, which I dusted off. With a quiet whicker, the filly pushed her muzzle into my hand, wrapping her lips around the arm of the teddy.
Holding the little toy, a look of delight on her features, I lead her back to her stall, and, to my surprise, she went in of her own accord. With a huff, the filly lay down, leaving the toy at her side, and, within moments, her eyes fluttered shut, and deep breaths showed me that she was asleep.
Raising my eyebrows, I turned to walk away, not hearing any noise, even after I left the barn.
And, the next morning, I returned to a silent, peaceful barn.