“You know, when you fly all the time,” Kona said between clip-clops, “you don’t realize how much fun it can be to just run.”
“I know!” Brisa said. “I love the way my mane and tail are bouncing in the breeze. Up in the air, I’m prone to terrible tangling!”
“Yeah,” Sirocco agreed. “This is the li-mmmph!”
The cantering colt was cut off by a giant dandelion puff, which hit him squarely in the face! He skidded to a stop so he could cough and sneeze the fluffy parachutes out of his mouth.
“Yuck!” he whinnied. “That’s even worse than the green sal—”
Sirocco caught himself before he admitted how little he’d liked their lunch. Then he threw his golden head back and nickered, “Onward!”
But the Wind Dancers hadn’t gotten much further when Brisa stopped in her tracks.
“Oh no!” she cried. “Look!”
Her friends followed her gaze down to her forelegs. Her white socks were mottled with mud and her normally lovely hooves were caked with dirt and grass.
“This is much uglier than a few horsehair tangles!” Brisa wailed.
“Leanna will fix it!” Sirocco said quickly. “I bet when she sees you, she’ll give you a warm bath. With … with flower petals floating in it!”
“I wish I had flowers still surrounding me,” Kona grumbled, glancing at the empty air around her. She missed the constant companionship of her magic flower halo.
Still, the Wind Dancers pressed on. But now, their canter had slowed to a walk.
“Is it just me,” Sumatra piped up, “or is it taking forever to get there?”
“We’re so much faster in flight,” Brisa agreed. “Cleaner and prettier, too.”
“Now horses,” Kona admonished them, “the patient pony gets the prize.”
“Wow, that saying is lamer than a lame horse,” Sumatra joked. But mid-giggle, she suddenly lurched forward with a whinny of pain.
“Owwwww!” she neighed. “I tripped on a pebble!”
“Talk about a lame horse!” Brisa cried. “Are you okay?”
“I guess so,” Sumatra moaned, hobbling a bit on her hurt hoof.
“My hooves are sore, too,” Kona said. “All this pounding on the ground—I’m not used to it!”
“Oh, please,” Sirocco scoffed. “You fillies sure are a bunch of lightweights!”
“We were, actually,” Sumatra snapped, “back when we could fly. It was a good thing!”
Sirocco searched his mind for a snappy comeback. But the fact was, his hooves were aching, too.
And his belly felt empty.
And his nose was getting scratched up from pushing through all the plants of the meadow.
And Leanna’s farm was still so very far away.
But just when Sirocco felt like he might sit down in the dirt and give up, he spotted something over his head.
It was a split-rail fence.
And not just any fence—it was the fence that enclosed the paddock where Thelma, Benny, Fluff, and Andy lived!
Instantly, Sirocco’s energy flooded back. Whinnying with delight, he began cantering toward the fence.
“What are you doing?” Sumatra demanded. She pointed with her white-striped nose to the right of the paddock. “Leanna’s house is that way.”
“But, clearly, we horses need a rest stop,” Sirocco said. “And what do you know—here we are at the big horses’ paddock!”
“Oh!” Sumatra said. “From all the way down here, I didn’t even realize!”
Sirocco ignored the sting in Sumatra’s comment. Instead, he said, “While we’re here, we can show our friends what a great job we’re doing at being regular horses like them!”
“Well, that is cheering!” Kona said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. The little Wind Dancers and the big horses were lightheartedly competitive about everything from their size to soccer. The little horses were always looking for new ways to best the big.
That’s why all the Wind Dancers trotted into the paddock with renewed pride. They tossed their heads and held their tiny tails high.
Still, it took the smallest of the big horses—Thelma’s baby colt, Andy—several minutes to even spot the Wind Dancers hopping around his hooves. When he did, he let out a long, giggly whinny.
“Okay, Andy,” Sirocco said with a frown. “Pipe down. We’re not that funny!”
Thelma trotted over, gazed down her nose at the Wind Dancers, and whinnied herself.
“I beg to differ,” she said. “A Wind Dancer on the ground is very funny. And even punier than when you’re in the air!”
“Why aren’t you in the air?” asked Fluff, the sweet filly (and the biggest Wind Dancer fan in the paddock).
“Oh, no reason,” Sirocco said, shuffling a front hoof around in the dirt. “You know … we … just felt like walking today.”
“No kidding?” replied Benny, who’d trotted up to take his own giggly gander at the grounded Wind Dancers.
“No, Sirocco is kidding,” Sumatra said. “He wished our magic away. So we can’t fly!”
“Or pop magic jewels, butterflies, ribbons, or flowers out of our halos,” Brisa admitted.
“But we’re doing great at being regular horses!” Kona quickly added, shooting Sumatra and Brisa a scolding look.
“Uh-huh!” Sirocco agreed, grinning big. He trotted in a wide circle around the big horses’ hooves to demonstrate. “See? It’s so easy being you!”
“Now I know you’re kidding,” Thelma said with a snort after watching Sirocco.
“Oh, yeah?” Sirocco asked with a taunt in his voice. “How?”
“Because it took you a full two minutes to run a single circle around us,” Thelma said smugly. “Because you’re completely out of breath. And because all four of you are limping!”
“No, we’re not,” Kona said, jutting out her chin defensively.
“I love being ground-bound!” Sumatra declared with bravado.
“Grass tastes good!” Sirocco added. But he sounded a little less convincing now. (Maybe because he was still out of breath.)
Brisa was the last Wind Dancer to speak up. She tried to think of something braggy to say about being a regular horse. But all she could come up with was, “My hooves hurt!”
“Brisa!” Sirocco scolded.
“I’m sorry, but it’s true!” Brisa cried. “I miss flying. How do you big horses do this every day? Between the dirt and the pebbles and the uneven ground, my feet are in a funk!”
“I knew it!” Benny crowed. “You Wind Dancers are all hot air! You hate walking!”
But Fluff was sympathetic.
“We’re not stronger than you,” she assured Brisa. “It’s just that we have shoes that protect our hooves from anything we might stomp on.”
“Shoes?!” Brisa said. She gazed at Fluff’s glossy, white hooves. She didn’t see any laces or buckles.
“Look!” Fluff said, bending her foreleg to lift her hoof off the ground. The Wind Dancers looked at the bottom of Fluff’s foot. It was covered by a shiny, U-shaped piece of metal.
“And here I thought horseshoes were just for tossing at a post!” Sumatra said with a laugh. “But you’re wearing them!”
“And they’re nailed into your hooves!” Sirocco squeaked, staring at the nail heads dotting the shoe. He felt a little woozy.
“Oh, it doesn’t hurt,” Fluff was quick to assure the colt. “A horse’s hooves are like a person’s fingernails. You can’t even feel it when you trim them or nail shoes to them—as long as it’s done correctly.”
“And how is it done?” Kona asked.
“By a farrier, of course,” Thelma said with a sniff. “A farrier is a blacksmith who levels and trims our hooves, then custom-makes our shoes and nails them on.”
“It’s like a beauty day!” Brisa breathed.
“Actually, it’s your lucky day!” Fluff said excitedly.
“Really?” Sumatra asked. “How do you figure?”
“The traveling far
rier is here today,” Fluff replied. “He drives around the countryside in a big van with all the tools he needs. Then all the horses who live nearby trot over for their shoeing. That’s why my shoes are so shiny! The farrier just nailed them on this morning!”
“Awesome!” Sirocco said. “Do you think the farrier is still nearby?”
“Oh yes,” Fluff said. “It usually takes him all day to get through all the horses who live in our area. His van is parked at our neighbor’s barn, just a little ways down the dirt road.”
“And on the way to Leanna’s house!” Sirocco neighed.
“Which is still such a long way away,” Sumatra grumbled.
“Not to worry!” Sirocco retorted. “With our new horseshoes, getting there will take no time at all!”
CHAPTER 5
Shoeing, Shoeing, Shod
By the time the Wind Dancers reached the traveling farrier’s van, they were hobbling.
They were also arguing.
“I say we just introduce ourselves to the farrier,” Brisa proposed. “We’re so pretty, he’ll be completely enchanted!”
“Or completely shocked!” Sumatra said. “Unlike Leanna, he has no idea that we even exist! And you know, adults don’t like unfamiliar things.”
“Yes,” Sirocco agreed, nodding as he limped along the edge of the dirt road. “Children are much better at believing in magic horses than grown-ups.”
“The farrier won’t be able to shoe us, anyway,” Kona added sensibly. “His hammers and nails are big-horse-sized! So it makes no difference if we introduce ourselves or not. We’ll still have to shoe ourselves.”
“I just hope we can do it without magic,” Sumatra said with a stare.
“Of course we can!” Sirocco blustered. “We may be magic-less, but we’re still Wind Dancers! We can do anything! Er … except fly.”
“And beautify things,” Kona grumbled, casting a glance at the side of the road. A crushed soft drink can was lying there, tossed by a careless litterer. Normally, Kona would have popped a bunch of magical flowers out of her halo to decorate the can, turning trash into treasure. The fact that she couldn’t do so made her clench her teeth in frustration.
Brisa wasn’t happy, either.
“We also can’t be as pretty as can be,” she said. “I bet I look a mess after all this hiking. And I can’t even check out my reflection in my mirrored jewels.”
“And I just feel lost without my ribbons,” Sumatra noted. “You know how I like things to be tied up neatly in a bow!”
Sirocco fretted as he listened to his filly friends complain. He just had to get the Wind Dancers to the yellow farmhouse.
Then we’ll be okay, magic or not, Sirocco thought to himself with a desperate grimace. Because we’ll have Leanna!
Luckily, as the Wind Dancers rounded a bend in the road, Sirocco heard a clang, clang, clang of metal hitting metal.
Then he spotted the farrier’s van parked in front of a barn.
“We’re here!” Sirocco neighed loudly. The horses trotted around the van, then skidded to a halt.
“Wow!” Kona whinnied. “That looks hot!”
The horses ducked behind one of the van’s tires and stared at the farrier’s furnace. It was part of the horse-shoeing station that the farrier had set up. The roaring fire was mesmerizing.
Just as fascinating was the farrier! He was a burly man in a long, leather apron. With a pair of big tongs, he was holding a glowing, orange horseshoe on an iron block and pounding at it with a giant hammer. Next he thrust the horseshoe into a bucket of water, where it sizzled. Then he pulled it out and inspected it carefully. Finally, he filed off some rough spots, whistled with satisfaction, and called over to the barn.
“Shoes all ready for Annie!”
A woman emerged from the barn, leading a pretty brown mare by the reins.
“You couldn’t have come a moment too soon,” the lady told the farrier happily. “Annie is so ready for some new shoes!”
“Let’s get started then!” the farrier said. He picked up one of the shoes he’d just made and held it up to the big horse’s front hoof.
With quick, expert strokes, he used square-headed horseshoe nails to hammer the shoe into the tough outer rim of Annie’s hoof. The horse rumbled a bit, but she clearly didn’t mind the pounding.
“That is the most awesome thing ever!” Sirocco neighed.
“I know!” Sumatra said. “But how are we going to shoe ourselves?”
“We can’t get near that fire!” Kona declared. “It’s too dangerous.”
Sirocco turned to the fillies with a big grin.
“It’s not so bad being this close to the ground!” he declared. “It gives you a chance to spot things like … this!”
Before the fillies could say a word, Sirocco darted away from the shelter of the van and dashed over to the iron block. He scooped some small, glimmery things from the dirt. Then he cantered over to his friends and spat the glimmery things onto the ground.
“Iron shavings!” Sirocco announced triumphantly. “They’re scattered all around the farrier’s workspace. They flew off his horseshoes when he was filing them.”
“They’re the perfect size for our horseshoes!” Sumatra said with admiration. “But how are we going to get them onto our hooves? We don’t have any tiny hammers or nails.”
Sirocco frowned at the shavings scattered in the dirt before him. As he gazed at them, he cocked his head to the left. Then the right. Then he walked up to one of the shavings and stomped on it with all his strength.
“What are you doing?” Brisa asked.
Sirocco lifted his front hoof and grinned. The iron shaving was stuck to it!
“I noticed that the shavings were all rough and spiky,” he neighed. “Each is like a shoe with its nails. Stomp hard enough, and it’ll stick!”
“I’ve got to try this!” Sumatra whinnied. She trotted over to one of the shavings, lifted one of her hooves, and stomped.
“Whoo hoo!” the filly neighed as she showed off her hoof—perfectly shod—to her friends.
As quickly and as quietly as they could (lest the farrier see and hear them), the Wind Dancers gathered more iron shavings, then stomped all of their feet into their horseshoes. When they finally had sixteen silver feet between them, Sirocco clicked his front hooves together with glee.
Clink!
“Listen to that!” the colt said. “Not only are we shod, we’re musical!”
“Ooh!” Brisa said, enchanted. She gave a little hop, clicking her front hooves together, too.
Clink!
Not to be outdone, Sumatra found a flat rock nearby and began stomping all over it.
Clickety, clackety, click!
“Uh, what are you doing?” Sirocco asked.
“I’m tap dancing, of course!” Sumatra said with a grin. “I’ve always been the airy dancer of our group. Now, I’m just adapting to life on the ground!”
All of Sumatra’s legs seemed to be going in different directions at once.
“Very graceful, Sumatra,” Kona said with a smile.
“Thank you!” Sumatra neighed, before tripping over her hooves and sprawling in the dirt.
The tap-dancing Wind Dancer lifted her head woozily.
“I guess what I was getting ready to say,” she whimpered, “is thank you … for helping me up after I fall on my face!”
“Ohhhh,” Brisa cried sympathetically as she rushed to help Sumatra up. “And just look at the unsightly dirt you have all over your pretty silvery blue coat now!”
“Well,” Sumatra sighed as Brisa brushed her off with her tail, “tapping on the ground is certainly different from dancing in the air!”
“And different is good!” Sirocco rushed to say. “Different is adventurous!”
“Speaking of that,” Kona pointed out, “now that our hooves are protected from the ground, we can get on with our adventure!”
“Right!” Sirocco neighed. “If we take the shortcut, it’s only another
mile or so until we see Leanna. And, more importantly, until she sees us!”
“A mile!” Brisa cried. “That’s nothing!”
“From the air,” Sumatra reminded her. “On the ground? Who knows how long that will take.”
Brisa’s face fell.
“By the time we get there, I’ll be utterly unbeautiful!” Brisa cried. “I don’t want that to be Leanna’s first glimpse of me!”
“Face it!” Sumatra snapped. “Without our pretty halos, we’re all looking a little plain.”
“A Wind Dancer without a halo,” Kona agreed primly, “is like a pinto without its ‘paint.’”
“A show horse without a show ring,” Brisa added.
“A cow horse without … well, cows!” Sumatra chimed in.
“Forget what we’ve lost and think about what we’re about to gain,” Sirocco whinnied. “Leanna! Unless, of course, we never get there because you fillies are too busy complaining!”
Sirocco’s friends couldn’t argue with that. So instead, they cheered up, and once more headed toward Leanna’s pretty, yellow farmhouse.
CHAPTER 6
Leanna, at Last
The Wind Dancers cantered through the dandelion meadow, enjoying the sturdy feel of their horseshoes and the rustle of soft grass. The sun kept them warm.
“You know,” Sirocco said, as he traveled alongside his friends, “it was a day much like this one that Leanna blew us out of our dandelion!”
“You’re right!” Sumatra said. “And that was the first—not to mention the last—time that Leanna ever saw us.”
“And only for a fleeting moment, at that,” Kona reminded her. “Then we disappeared into our magic halos, right before her eyes.”
“Which is why she’s going to be that much more excited when she sees us again!” Sirocco said. His canter quickened to a gallop at the thought.
The fillies were excited, too—so much so that they were finally able to put aside their yearning for their magic.
“I don’t think I need my jewels to help me with my grooming after all,” Brisa pointed out. “This soft grass is combing out my mane and tail as we run through it. It’s almost as handy as magic!”
Magic Horses—or Not? Page 2