Sophia ignored the sudden clap of thunder, gritting her teeth. The freezing rain tore at her skin with icy fingers. She could feel muddy snow soaking into her runners. Her heart hammered in her chest as she cleared the fence, tearing across the field toward the dark shape.

The horse watched as she approached.

Sophia dropped to her knees, ignoring the burning sensation in her lungs. The white animal was shivering. She stroked its neck gently, trying not to flinch at the way its leg was bent at a sickening angle.

"Poor baby," she crooned. "Poor, poor baby."

The horse — a rather small horse — raised its head weakly.

"Sophia!"

Finn collapsed beside her, his face tight with fury. There was a tick in his jaw, and his hands were balled into fists, as if he was fighting the urge to shake her.

"What the hell?" he demanded.

"She needed us!"

"I—" Finn shook his head wordlessly. "You know what? I'll deal with you later." He threw a coat roughly around her shoulders. "We're going back inside. Right now."

Sophia clung to the horse. "Not without her."

Finn looked at her incredulously; Sophia didn't blame him. She was being ridiculous. She had never particularly liked horses, and here she was, kneeling in a damp field in the middle of a monsoon. But there was something about the sight of the tiny horse — fragile, shivering, looking up at her with baleful eyes — that made her chest tighten.

Sophia stroked the animal's wet fur.

She'd save the horse. She had to.

"We can't do anything for her," Finn said, his voice softening slightly. "Look at that leg, Soph. It's fractured. It would be kinder to put her down."

Sophia's grip tightened. "Don't say that."

"Besides," Finn said, "I have no idea where her mother is. She's likely abandoned her foal. And newborn foals can't survive for more than six hours without proper care." He touched her shoulder. "Sophia? Did you hear me?"

"I'm not leaving her."

"Fine," Finn said, rocking back on his heels. "Let's go back inside. I'll call Ava and see if she can get out here in time."

He glanced at the wet dirt road doubtfully. Sophia shuffled closer to the horse.

"I'm not leaving," she repeated.

Finn stared at her. Sophia got the sense that he was silently cursing her with a wide variety of creative words.

"Fine," he muttered. "Stay here, then. I'll get the truck."

Sophia swallowed hard, nodding. Mercifully, Finn wasn't gone long — only twenty minutes at the most — but Sophia was shivering violently when he returned. The rain had given way to sleet, and white flakes clung to her hair. The wind bit at her skin.

"This is insane," Finn said. "You know that, right?" He yanked open the doors to the white trailer attached to the truck. "If that leg doesn't kill her, the trailer will. She'll get spooked by the thunder and bludgeon herself to death."

"She's a fighter."

He shook his head. "It's not kind, Sophia."

"Well, I'm not going to let her die," Sophia said, rising. "So you can either help me or leave."

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. Unfortunately, her teeth were chattering violently, which she suspected ruined the effect. Finn scowled, muttering something about stupid horses and stubborn women.

"Fine," he growled. "But if the storm gets worse — if you get too cold — then you agree to go inside. Deal?"

"Okay." Sophia scratched her nose. "It's a deal."

Finn's eyes narrowed. "You're lying."

"I'm not!"

"Yes," Finn sighed. "You are." He lay a hand on the horse's neck, his face softening slightly. "Try not to jostle her too much when we move her; she'll panic and kick you."

Hope swelled in her chest. "You're going to let me help?"

Finn shot her a wry look. "Would I be able to stop you?"

Together, they managed to coax the horse into the trailer. Finn managed to stabilize the horse's leg, tranquilizing the animal so that she would be calm for the journey. Impulsively, Sophia kissed the horse on the nose.

"I'll take good care of you," she murmured. "Promise."

The horse made a snuffling sound; Sophia decided to take that as an encouraging sign. She closed the trailer doors, hopping into the passenger seat of the truck. Finn started the truck, swearing colorfully as they skidded on a patch of mud.

"Drive carefully," she warned Finn.

"Obviously."

"Watch for gopher holes."

"Sophia?"

"Yes?"

"I am still very angry with you," Finn said tightly, his knuckles white on the wheel. "And I am trying not to yell. So, please: be quiet."

And Sophia, not wanting to push her luck, obediently fell silent.

The drive to the barn felt like it took years. Sophia flinched at every bump they hit, straining her ears to hear any noise from the trailer. The wind was tossing it around with invisible hands, and she could tell by Finn's grip on the steering wheel that he was fighting to keep control of the truck.

Finally — mercifully — they arrived.

Sophia threw herself out of the truck, racing to the trailer. The horse was shivering, leaning heavily against a metal wall. She was still breathing though, and Sophia let out a long breath.

"Oh, thank god."

Finn materialized next to her, his mouth a white line as he helped the animal out of the trailer. He led her to the nearest stall, settling her among the hay. Sophia passed him a warm quilt, and he draped it obligingly over the horse. The foal whinnied, and Finn's expression softened.

"You got yourself in a real pickle, huh?" he murmured.

He reached into a wooden bucket, producing a bottle. Sophia watched, incredulous, as Finn opened a refrigerator, pouring a hefty amount of milk into the plastic container. He proffered the bottle to the horse, but she shrunk back.

"Here." Sophia held out a hand. "Let me try."

Finn passed her the bottle, tensing as their hands connected. Sophia tried to yank her hand free, but he held fast, his eyes dangerously dark.

"Your hands," he said accusingly. "They're freezing."

"I'm fine."

Unfortunately, Sophia's chattering teeth gave her away. Finn's expression turned murderous. "You were supposed to go inside if you got cold."

"Well, I changed my mind."

Sophia ripped her hand free, turning back to the foal. The animal was looking up at Sophia with a doleful expression, her dark eyelashes fluttering. Sophia crouched down next to her, stroking her neck with numb fingers.

"Here." She fumbled slightly. "This is for you, my darling."

The foal suckled tentatively at the bottle.

"Go on, honey," Sophia murmured encouragingly, pushing the bottle closer. "You'll like it; I promise."

The foal— apparently deciding that Sophia was trustworthy — dug into the milk with slightly more enthusiasm. Finn crossed his arms.

"Okay," Finn said stiffly. "That's enough; you need a warm bath. I have some clothes of Gemma's that should fit you."

Sophia didn't move. Finn shifted.

"Sophia?"

"I'm sleeping here," she murmured, her eyes on the foal.

"I—what?"

"I'm sleeping here," Sophia repeated, looking up at him this time. "I'm not leaving her, Finn. I meant it before."

Finn wore an odd expression. He was silhouetted against the doorway, blond hair matted to his neck; his white t-shirt was completely soaked through, clinging to the curves of his arms. His eye was still swollen, and his mouth was coated with crusted blood.

He looked beautiful.

Angry, Sophia thought wearily, but beautiful.

She could feel the adrenaline draining out of her, replaced by a heavy bone-tiredness. Finn must have been able to tell because he turned, yanking the barn door closed. Then he reached for another thick quilt.

Sophia blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Well, we don't want to get cold, do we?"

"We?"

"Oh, come on, Toronto," Finn said, and the ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "You don't think I'm about to leave you outside on your own, do you?" He nodded at the horse, who was sleeping soundly. "She might eat you."

Sophia felt her lips tug. "She is pretty scary."

"Not as scary as you, though."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Finn lay down beside her, spreading the quilt carefully over top of them. Sophia shifted in the hay. She could feel Finn's body heat filling the space between them, warming her back. She shivered slightly.

"Oh, for god's sake," Finn sighed, and he draped a heavy arm over her. "Just admit that you're cold."

"I'm fine."

She could practically hear Finn rolling his eyes. He tugged her closer, and Sophia wrapped her hands around his arm, tucking it more firmly around her. She could feel his steady heartbeat through her spine.

"Sophia?" Finn murmured.

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry." Finn's breath tickled the base of her neck. "For earlier. You're right; I'll never understand what it's like for you. And if you don't want me to defend you..." His grip tightened around her. "I'll try to back off. If that's what you want."

"I'm sorry, too," she whispered.

Finn rested his chin on top of her head, and Sophia closed her eyes. She slowed her breath to match his heartbeat. And they slept like that as the storm raged on outside, howling through skeleton trees and battering the iron weathervane, a giant knocking on the door of their snug little shelter.