They carried Emma to Apricot Lane Farm believing they were escorting her toward a gentle, merciful ending. Instead, she waged a final, punishing battle to bring seventeen piglets into the world, leaving thirteen barely alive and their mother shattered. Fever burned through her; she collapsed, breathing shallowly, as Chester made the call he dreaded. He pulled the piglets away, lined them up with bottles, and tried to trade a mother’s touch for human kindness and formula.

But the babies turned from the rubber nipples, their cries growing weaker as Emma’s life ebbed. Faced with losing them all, Chester reversed his choice and laid each fragile body back against her. Instinct took over where medicine had failed. Tiny hooves searched, soft snouts rooted, and something in Emma answered. With every hungry tug, her breath grew steadier. By sunrise, she rose on shaking legs, anchored to life by the thirteen small hearts she’d nearly died to bring forth.