“Just a sec,” she said, pulling on sweats and a hoodie over her pjs. She glanced around her room for a suitable conveyance for her little refugee. Her gaze settled on her pink school backpack, now empty of books and pens. She shook it upside down to dump out the last of the crumpled bits of paper. “Quick, get in here.”
Flash looked doubtfully into the open bag, then gingerly stepped inside. Laura carefully zipped the bag up, hung it over one shoulder and went downstairs to the kitchen. “I’m going out for a bit, Mom,” Laura announced. “To the park, and to see if Krissy’s home.”
The street on which she lived dead-ended at a small parkette. It was empty, much to Laura’s relief. She knelt down in a secluded grassy section surrounded by a tall hedge and released Flash from his stuffy prison. He burst out of the bag and rose in a spiral, obviously delighted to feel the sun on his wings again. After a quick and discreet trip to the bushes, he galloped happily back to Laura. He scampered around her like a little pixie, nibbled at some lush grass, and then looked speculatively upwards. “What’s next?”
Laura had been trying to figure out her next move. This news was too big to keep bottled up. She felt as though she would burst. She needed to spill the beans to somebody.
“Come on, Flash, back in the bag.”
He looked crestfallen.
“It won’t be for long, I promise.”
Stashed away and zipped up, Flash was transported a couple of blocks away to the little sidesplit where Krissy lived. Laura had to knock several times before her disheveled friend answered the door, still in her pajamas.
“’Sup?” she mumbled sleepily, idly scratching her backside.
“Let me in. I have something to show you,” Laura said, holding up the backpack.
“What is it? Did you get a new model?” Krissy slowly came to life. “I know, it’s a real pony,” she joked. “Or maybe a miniature horse.”
“Way better than that,” Laura said. “Where are your mom and dad?”
Krissy scanned the driveway. “Out shopping, I guess. The car is gone.”
Laura pushed past her into the kitchen. Krissy trotted along behind, cobwebs gone and curiosity level high. Carefully, Laura tipped the opened backpack forward and Flash slid gracefully onto the counter.
There was a long silence. Krissy finally spoke. “Wow,” she breathed.
“He was trapped in that figurine of mine for centuries by an evil wizard, then lightning hit him last night during the storm.” Laura continued relaying the tale, words tumbling over each other, finishing breathlessly, “Isn’t he awesome?”
Flash clip-clopped across the counter to stand in front of Krissy. “So nice to meet you,” he said, bowing slightly.
Krissy’s jaw dropped. “He talks, too? Ohmigod.”
The girls chattered excitedly while Flash explored the kitchen. So many new wonders caught his attention: the cookie jar shaped like a frog, the tall jars of colourful peppers in olive oil. He hovered in front of the shiny, stainless steel fridge, admiring his own reflection, and was fascinated when Krissy showed him how the icemaker worked.
“I have to go back home and do chores,” Laura finally said. “My mom and dad are working again tonight. Do you want to sleep over?”
Krissy thought that was a most excellent idea and promised to ask her parents’ permission the minute they got home.
Heading back home with Flash safely, although reluctantly, tucked into the backpack, Laura tried to plan her day so that she would not be far from the little guy. Going to the mall was out – too many people, not to mention the long car trip. She would offer to weed the vegetable garden, she decided, which would surely cause raised eyebrows from her parents. At least Flash wouldn’t have to stay cooped up inside on such a nice day. He would have to promise to mind her, though, so as not to be spotted by the neighbours.
Laura’s parents were both surprised and delighted by her sudden interest in yardwork. Before heading to the hardware store to pick up material for a long-overdue garden shed and a new microwave to replace the old incinerated one, they made sure Laura was outfitted with a hat, gloves, sunscreen and a trowel.
Alone in the quiet corner garden, Laura once again freed the impatient Flash, but not before she “read him the riot act,” as her mom loved to say. “You have to stay out of sight below the fenceline, or else the neighbours or people walking by on the sidewalk might see you, which would be a very bad thing. And if I say get back in the bag now, I mean it.”
Flash sighed and scraped a tiny hoof in the dirt. “But why can’t people be allowed to see me? I don’t want to be in hiding forever.”
Why indeed? Laura had thought long and hard about this. She patiently explained that if the whole world knew about the little flying horse, he would likely be taken from her to be studied by scientists, or put on display in some zoo, or hounded by the press and paparazzi, or have people wanting him as some sort of exotic pet. She shuddered at the thought. Flash – this living, breathing version of Flash – had been in her life barely twelve hours and already she could not bear the thought of ever being separated from him.
Weeding turned out to be far more fun than Laura expected. Flash watched quietly at first, until he figured out what the basic idea of weeding entailed. Then he wholeheartedly pitched in, ripping out the smaller green intruders with his teeth and digging out the dandelions and thistles with his sharp front hooves. Dirt and weeds flew, and the pair were finished in record time, the rows neatly raked, the weeds heaped in the compost pile. As a reward, Flash received a tiny, tender baby carrot, which he ate with slobbery gusto.
The two of them were in the living room watching Animal Planet. Flash was amazed by the “television machine,” and quickly decided that this was his favourite channel. A noise outside indicated that Laura’s parents had returned, the creaky old family pickup filled with lumber and boxes.
“Quick, get upstairs,” Laura hissed, releasing Flash into the air like a dove. He swooped up the stairway and out of sight.
“Could you help us unload the truck, honey?” CeeCee called from the doorway. “We have to play a wedding at five o’clock and we’re running a little late.”
Hauling the two-by-fours from the tailgate to the backyard turned out to be quite a workout for Laura’s arms and back muscles.
“This will help you get in shape for working at the farm,” her mom noted. “Make you all buff and stuff.”
The job! Laura had completely forgotten about Banbury Cross and Mrs. Leeds. “Yeah, right,” Laura giggled. “I’ll be strong like bull, smart like toaster.”
Her mother dropped a heavy armload of lumber onto the pile, where it rattled noisily and slid onto the grass.
“By the way, have you decided what you might like to do on your birthday? It’s only a couple of weeks away, in case you’ve forgotton.” She winked. “Thirteen years old, holy cow.” Laura’s mother launched into her nostalgic “it-seems-like-just-yesterday, where-have-the-years-gone?” speech she revived every year about this time.
Laura threw her arms around her mom’s neck. “Oh, Mom, you’re still as young and beautiful as the day I was born. And no, I’m still not sure what I want to do. Maybe see a movie? Or dinner at Outback? Or maybe Chinese?”
Krissy arrived breathlessly just as Laura’s parents, toting instruments and gear – CeeCee with a silver gown and Tom with a white tuxedo slung over their shoulders – were packing up to leave. Once the van had rounded the corner out of sight, Krissy burst out, “So, where is he!?”
The girls bounded upstairs, armed with chips and Cheerios, and found Flash exploring long-forgotten items in Laura’s cluttered closet with great interest. He had pulled out some sparkly Barbie clothes, a Baby Furby and a well-worn My Little Pony. BeDazzle beads and sequins littered the floor.
“Flash, you’re making a mess,” Laura cried, not really upset at all. “Get out of there. We brought you a snack.”
As they munched, Krissy asked her own set of questions. Flash pat
iently repeated his story, at least those parts he could remember.
“Were there others like you, or were you the only, you know, Pegasus?” Krissy wanted to know.
“Oh my, there were thousands of us,” Flash began. “We lived peacefully in the forests and fields of Elysia, until the warring Troglodynes began to migrate southward, slaughtering and feasting on everything in their path. We could not flee into the mountains; there was not enough forage or food to sustain our families. So we had no choice but to stay and fight.
“Luckily, we were able to form an alliance with the neighbouring Valkyrians, who also did not want to be overrun by the Troglodynes. They were fierce fighters, descended from a race of dragon-riders, and we suited each other well. The Troglodynes, sensing that our combined defenses were too powerful to overcome, sought help from the Odious Brotherhood of Wizards, a branch of sorcerers that had been banished from the Free World many years before because of the dark magic they practiced.”
Flash paused, the memory still painful. “The next time we met, our forces were decimated. It was a brutal, bloody battle, and when I found myself face-to-face with Malvenom himself, I was unable to avoid his evil magic. That’s the last thing I remember before becoming aware that I was, well, trapped in a statue.”
“That’s awful,” Laura said sadly. She envisioned the horrific battle, all the beautiful winged horses and brave warriors who fought to their deaths. “What about the others? What about your family?”
Flash looked down and idly scuffed a hoof on the carpet. “I don’t know. My brother fought hard by my side. I am hoping that my sire and dam and little sister made it safely into the mountains. Even though it would have been a struggle to survive the harsh conditions there, at least they would have had a chance to live.”
The trio sat in silence for a bit. Laura wished she could say something clever or soothing or inspirational, but nothing came.
Maxi entered the room, yawning. Her attention was suddenly riveted on the girls, and especially on their little companion. To feline eyes, Flash looked like lunch.
When the girls rose and headed for the office, Maxi saw her chance. Laura and Krissy had barely sat down in front of the computer when they heard a crash and a squeal. They rushed back into the bedroom. Maxi was running across the floor, dragging Flash by one wing like a lion wrestling an eagle. His free wing beat furiously against her face, and his sharp hooves flailed against her chest.
Before Laura could reach the struggling pair, Flash landed a particularly well-aimed blow and the cat released her grip long enough to allow his escape.
“Maxi!” Laura shrieked. “Bad cat!”
Maxi crouched, growling sullenly.
A thorough examination of the little horse revealed nothing broken or bleeding, although a pinfeather was badly crumpled. Flash roused his wings irritably and Laura realized that he was both annoyed and embarrassed. His golden eyes flashed, but did not meet hers.
“It’s okay, Flash,” Laura said, fighting back a smile.
“No, it’s not!” he shot back. “I used to be a stealthy and fearless warrior. I fought monsters and all manner of vile creatures, and then that…that thing sneaks up on me as if I were a rank amateur.” His voice, and apparently his displeasure, faded. He shot an evil glance at the cat, who had moved on to cleaning her paws with steady strokes of her pink tongue.
Laura scooped up the unhappy little warrior and suggested they all watch TV. “I’ll let you have the remote,” she promised.
Flash brightened, the incident forgotten.
The next few days passed in a busy, happy blur. Laura and Flash fell into a comfortable routine of meals and chores and fun. She became very adept at moving the little stowaway from room to room to garden to park to Krissy’s house without being spotted. Laura even broke down and took Flash to the mall in the city, transporting him by backpack. He was entranced by the stores and shoppers, peeking discreetly from the backpack’s zippered pouch. Laura bought him a dollar-store rhinestone bracelet which he wore proudly around his neck. She thought it was kind of girlie, but he seemed to love shiny things so much that she didn’t want to spoil the moment.
Flash especially liked the pet store and was charmed by the cockatoos, who exceeded him in size and wingspan. One large sulfur-crested male caught sight of him and squawked loudly, his bright feathered crest rising to full plume like a crazy mohawk. Laura had to leave the store when all the birds took up the agitated cry and hopped from perch to perch, flapping and cheeping in excitement. The sales clerks glared at her accusingly as she rushed out the door.
On Thursday morning, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Leeds at Banbury Cross Stables. Mrs. Connor held her hand over the receiver and asked Laura, “You’re still interested in the job, aren’t you?” She had been puzzled by her daughter’s distracted attitude in the past week. She had hardly even mentioned the barn.
“Of course I’m still interested,” Laura insisted, grabbing the phone. “Hello?” She tried not to sound too eager or desperate, nor too indifferent.
“Well, Miss Connor, of all the people I have interviewed, I still like you the best. The job is yours if you still want it.”
Laura’s resolve broke. “Yes!” she squealed. “That’s awesome. I mean, thank you, Mrs. Leeds. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”
Mrs. Leeds told her to report to the farm at seven o’clock the following morning. Her mom assured Laura that providing a ride at that early hour was not a problem during the week, but they agreed that Laura would ride her bike if she was called in on the weekends, to allow her parents to sleep in after working a late night.
Laura hurried upstairs to share the exciting news with Flash. He did not seem to grasp the concept of horse-keeping on a large scale.
“They don’t run free? They’re kept in little cages indoors? Who feeds them? You mean humans actually fancy that they own creatures such as these?” He was aghast.
Laura thought she had better save the conversation about bits and saddles and crops (and gelding) for another day.
The next morning, dressed in comfy old jeans, a tee, muckers and gloves, Laura impatiently waited in the van for her mother. Armed with a travel mug full of strong coffee, Mrs. Connor drove while Laura chatted excitedly.
“I wonder how I’ll do? I hope the horses all behave. You know, I never even asked what the job pays!”
Mrs. Connor travelled along the route she had decided was the safest and fastest for Laura to get to the farm by bicycle, should the need arise. Laura made careful mental note of the street signs and landmarks along the way.
Pulling up in the parking area, CeeCee turned to her daughter. Reaching into her windbreaker, she handed Laura a cellphone. Laura stared at it in surprise. “What’s this?”
“Honey, I know we’ve dragged our feet about getting you one of these, but I think you could use one now. Especially if you’re going to be working way out here in the boonies. We were going to give it to you for your birthday anyway. It’s not super fancy. I think you can text and take pictures with it, but it’s only to be used to call home when you need to be picked up, or in an emergency.”
She reached over and powered the phone on. “See, all juiced up and ready to go. Home is the first number on speed dial.”
Laura was speechless, but managed to croak, “Thanks, Mom. This is so cool, it’s off the hook.” She kissed her mother quickly on the cheek before hopping out of the van.
Mrs. Leeds was already in the barn, tending to the morning feed. Laura took a deep breath scented with horse smells and wood shavings.
“Where would you like me to start?” she asked.
“Oh, hello dear,” Mrs. Leeds greeted her, looking up from a feed tub into which she was pouring a measure of vitamin supplements. She indicated the yellowish powder in the dispensing scoop. “A special broodmare potion for the mother-to-be,” she said. “Wonderful stuff for building better babies.”
The pair walked the length of the barn, Mrs. Leeds poi
nting out the notes jotted on small chalkboards outside each stall: Glory – 1 SF 2oz G 2F.
“Morning Glory gets one scoop of sweet feed, glucosamine, which is a joint supplement for her creaky old joints, and two flakes of hay.”
She pointed to another note: Dudley – 1 SF 1 CO 3F.
“Dudley is 17 hands and gets lots of exercise, so he gets one scoop of sweet feed plus one scoop of crimped oats, and three flakes of hay.”
Laura looked puzzled when she got to Smidge’s stall: Smidge – SSW, 1/2 EX and 1F. She turned to Mrs. Leeds for a translation.
“Smidge is such a small pony that he really doesn’t need any sweet feed, but he looks so sad while the others are having theirs that I feed him a tiny handful – a smidge.” She laughed. “He also gets half a scoop of extruded hay pellets, which keeps him busy chewing and prevents him from getting bored. And we all know there’s nothing worse than a bored pony.”
Laura didn’t know, but felt that she would find out, some day.
While the horses worked on their breakfast, creating a symphony of snuffling, chewing and bucket thumping, Mrs. Leeds went over the barn routine with Laura. There was a lot to remember: who got turned out in which paddock, where the stable tools were kept, the location of the manure pile, the list of emergency phone numbers.
Mrs. Leeds explained that each animal was given a visual once-over before and after turnout to check for cuts, bumps and swellings. “They can play pretty rough at times,” she said, “but generally, everybody gets along.”
She showed Laura the correct way to lead a horse to the field and reminded her always to turn the horse’s head towards the gate before releasing the clip on the lead shank. “Less chance you’ll get kicked, even by accident,” Mrs. Leeds explained.
Laura took Phantom, Smidge and Glory to their respective paddocks without incident, then donned her work gloves for a lesson in Mucking Out 101. Mrs. Leeds showed her how to pile the reusable shavings to one side of the stall, shovel out the soggy spots and poo piles, and sift through the remains with the “apple picker” for stragglers. The student’s favourite part by far was spreading clean, fragrant shavings around the stall.
Pocket Pegasus Page 3