The Benshira listened silently to the head groom’s examination of his horse’s ailment. His face remained still, but his chest continued to hitch with guilt. Everything Lusina told him felt like a stab to his throat, all the symptoms he noticed and should have done something about—but he didn’t. A voice in his head continued to tell him it was all his fault but he ignored it and fought the urge to break down, he was determined to fix this mess and blaming himself does not help his situation.
Lusina took his hand as she explained the cause of the swollen spot between his stallion’s jaws. She let Yousef feel the tender bulge where the horse’s lymph nodes were inflamed, Yousef felt sick. How could he have let this happen? He let his fingers linger on the spot then he traced Hassan’s jawline, until he reached the horse’s muzzle and gave it an affectionate rub. “Sorry…” he murmured to his horse, silently wondering what Hassan would say if he could answer him.
Yousef realized that Lusina paused her explanation as he talked to Hassan, feeling himself color he gestured for the woman to go on. And she did, continuing to talk about stangles, and reassuring him that Hassan’s condition wasn’t grave. The Benshira decided that, he liked Lusina. “Do you have any questions you want to ask before we move on to basic horse care?” she inquired, her face reflected concern and haste. She probably wanted to get started with Hassan as soon as possible.
For the duration of their conversation he hardly said anything, Lusina must have worried over that, he inhaled deeply and looked up at the head groom. “I’m very thankful you’ve given me this chance Ma’am and I thank you as well for reassuring me about Hassan’s condition…” he paused, trying to recall something about his sheep. “I was wondering how long a horse flu lasted… and how long Hassan would have to stay here…”
Yousef sensed that he said the wrong thing, did that make me sound too helpless? He hoped not, because that’s exactly what he felt. He wanted to tell Lusina that he knew how unstable an animal’s diseases were, that there would always be a possibility that there’s more to the flu, would that make me sound arrogant? Rubbing his horse’s ear, he thought of a way to explain himself, so he decided to share his experience with his sheep.
The Benshira began, “I’ve had to look after a flock of sheep back at Yahebah, my father was a shepherd you see… and once, a lamb got pneumonia, we had no idea at first. But eventually as the days passed it refused to eat its meals and it stopped playing with the others, it began to cough and have swollen eyes...” Hassan’s shaky breath mingled with his solemn tone, and that was all that could be heard in the large quarantine. “After a few days, we had to take the poor thing away from its mother to avoid it from infecting the other lambs. It took us more than twenty days and almost 150 gold miza’s worth of medicine to cure the little guy… and even after that he managed to infect ten others…” His breath hitched, and he paused for a while—I wonder if I’ll get my message across—finally he continued, “We lost eleven lambs that season.” He related his story with a pained expression, he was nine then, surely the experience was far more painful for him then, when he was a kid. Hassan wasn’t around that time.
He wasn’t sure if he did the right thing, sharing a grim memory at a time like this didn’t help them at all. But he hoped Lusina knew what he was trying to say. Yousef cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for that, I know that story was uncalled for, please excuse me… but I’m still wondering how long Hassan would have to stay in quarantine? And if he’d gotten better eventually, wouldn’t he be infected with the other sick animals if he continued to stay here?”