The silence was a presence. Not the restful silence of a house in the dead of night, but the vast, deafening quiet that had settled over the world after the upheaval.

Gedaliah woke to it. There was no low hum of distant traffic, no wail of sirens, no anxious chatter of a thousand lives rushing reluctantly to their destination.

A lot of people were lost. A lot of things, too. He felt the weight of it that morning. There was peace now, but it was a peace born of loss, and a thread of grief was woven inextricably through it.

He moved through the house with a quiet grace, his rough hands, a testament to a life of hard labour, feeling oddly empty. He was trying to process this new paradigm: a world he had always longed for, yet one that was fundamentally alien.

The old, bitter irony clawed at his throat: “Be careful what you wish for, as you might get it.”

He had yearned for quiet, for nature to reclaim its space, but the cost had been so very dear.

The air was cleaner, the rivers clearer, the sky a deeper blue, and the sounds of nature, once background noise, were now the central chorus. Birds chirped with a louder, more confident sound.

Romy, unable to find comfort in the profound stillness of the house, pulled on her old, mud-splashed boots, the ones that still smelled of damp earth and hay.

She instinctively headed to the barn, hoping for the familiar, placid company of the animals.

As she approached, a rustle and a low, happy murmur swelled into a sound she had never heard before.

Entering the barn, she was met with a scene of utter, unexpected joy. The sensible donkeys, Jack and Jenny (who had always moved with such quiet purpose), were braying with a jubilant sound, their long ears twitching in a way that seemed to express unbridled cheer. The bickering goats, equal to themselves, were jumping over everything and everyone gleefully, their bleats full of pure contentment.

Even Sunny, the family dog, was a partaker in the celebration, spinning around and barking joyfully.

The whole barn had erupted into a frienzied barn party: horses neighing, cows mooing, chickens frolicking happily, a glorious sight that was the exact opposite of the silent grief on the human side.

Drawn by the joyous commotion, Gedaliah came out of the house. He saw Romy in the centre of the hubbub, the rigid lines of her face softened into a look of sheer, pleasant astonishment. He watched as the wise donkeys looked up at him, their eyes full of a quiet understanding.

They all knew. They had felt the world’s pain end, the old wounds of human discord fade away, and they were celebrating. They were not held back by memory or sorrow. They were living entirely in this new moment, this new beginning.

As the cacophony of life began to win him over, the dark irony from the morning started to fade, and another saying came to mind: “To make an omelette, you have to break some eggs.” 

The old world had to shatter for the new, vibrant one to emerge. The animals were telling him and his family that this was the world they were always meant to live in.

It was a return to a peaceful, meaningful, and simple existence. They were telling him to embrace it, rather than wallow in grief.

Gedaliah walked towards Romy, the sounds of the farm animals a beautiful new song. And in that moment, Romy burst into tears: a mixture of grief and relief, joy and sorrow. Gedaliah lay a comforting hand on her back, a tear rolling down his own face. Sunny walked over to them, trying to cheer them up.

He was joined by Professor Hoot, Wily the raven, Sid the Seagull, and even Rusty the racoon.

They looked at the two humans as if to make an announcement. Patches emerged from the forest. Behind her, a fox and its cubs came out, as if led by the pigeon.

The farm had new residents. Romy wiped away her tears. She was hit by an exhilarating thought: she would tame as many animals as possible, starting with these foxes.

The invisible chains of the past, the unfulfilling missions and the chase after arbitrary, gilded cages, had vanished with the human noise. 

For the first time, her heart’s desire was not a hobby to be put off, but a sacred, necessary work; she was free to build a life measured only by the health of the earth beneath her boots and the animals gracing her path.

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