Then, Storm did something that none of them would ever forget.

He let out a low, broken sound — not quite a neigh, not quite a cry, but something deep and raw, as if he were calling to his master one last time. Then he began to nudge the coffin gently, almost tenderly, like he used to when Thomas would arrive with an apple or a sugar cube in his hand.

The crowd’s composure shattered.
Old farmers who had known Thomas all their lives wiped tears from their faces. Children clutched their parents’ hands in silence. Even the priest, who had presided over hundreds of funerals, found himself unable to continue reading.

“Look at that…” someone whispered. “He came back to say goodbye.”

Storm stayed like that for nearly a minute — still, silent, his body trembling with grief. Then he lifted his head toward the sky and let out another long cry that echoed through the fields like a farewell that reached heaven itself.

Only when the hearse door closed did he step back.

A Promise Kept Beyond Death

After the ceremony, the family tried to lead Storm away, but he refused to move from the graveyard gate.
He stood there long after everyone had gone, staring into the distance where the hearse had disappeared. When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Daniel — Thomas’s eldest son — approached him quietly.