Now, Puppet-Guy was still waving his arms around, and Chad thought that if he sped up those arms a little, the man might actually take flight.
Chad tried to lift his head, and groaned.
“Don’t move,” a stern voice ordered.
Someone crouched next to him and began softly stroking his hair.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” a voice murmured.
The voice sounded so sad, Chad found himself wanting to give reassurances, but nausea rolled through him again and he had to focus his energy elsewhere.
Chad must have drifted off, because the next thing he remembered was waking in an ambulance.
“Is he going to be okay?” His normally robust voice came out hoarse and weak. He remembered the boy and…the horse. Chad couldn’t remember what happened next. Did he hand the child back to anyone? Was he hurt, too
