“What do you want?” There wasn’t a good reason for her to be there.
There was a catch. There always was.
Her mouth twisted as a dark expression passed over her face. She studied her toes. When she lifted her eyes, they glowed green. “I’m like you. I can talk to the animals, too.”
“That’s crazy.” Santi hoped she couldn’t see his pulse pounding in his temple.
She knew. Somehow, she knew.
“I saw what you did. With the goats. My father was terrified. He muttered about demons all day.” She giggled at that.
“I didn’t do that.” Santi drew back. The skill had driven him from his hometown. His daydreams made one too many plagues. When his mother figured it out, she’d sent him away, tears streaming down her face, convinced he’d been cursed for her sins. “How did you find me?”
“The mule at the end of the alley told me you were here.”
“That’s crazy. People don’t talk to animals.” Even Santi didn’t communicate in words with the animals, it was more like pictures, ideas, and feelings. He squinted at her. She couldn’t have magic. Could she?
“Let’s not pretend.” She put her hands on her hips.
Santi smirked at her. She thought she was going to boss him around. She had another think coming.
“I know you did,” Rusha said. “Frango says you argue over which came first, the egg or the hen. He told me your favorite meal, and Dog says you like her milk when she has it.”
Santi’s eyes bulged. He wasn’t the only one with it anymore. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve been looking for someone like you.”
Dog still consumed her portion of hay, bored with the human conversation. Frango jumped down from her arm and jogged away to peck at crickets trapped in the corner. They had been his only friends since he’d left home, gathering them one by one as he went.
“Why me?” He couldn’t think of a good reason why the daughter of a rich man would want someone like him.
“You have magic.” She winked at Frango and the lazy-eyed rooster winked back. “I have magic, too.”
“Magic isn’t real.”
She continued as though he hadn’t spoken at all. “It is, and we must learn.”
He shook his head. “Learn? Learn what? Who would teach us?” She was a lunatic. Like father, like daughter.
“We must learn all we can about using our powers. There’s someone out there that can help us.”
Santi studied the young woman. She had leaned forward, her gaze intense.
She was as serious as could be.
Odd Dog had a crush on a brown goat down the street, but it wasn’t the strangest thing the girl, Rusha, had ever heard in her lifetime.
Rusha hadn’t been waiting long, but she had heard all the latest herd and flock gossip while she’d been waiting on Santi.
Rusha didn’t think Santi could communicate with the animals as well as she could, but he cared for them as much as she did. He didn’t know it yet, but he would be the perfect partner for her vision of opening an animal hospital.
Her feet ate away the distance between Santi’s hovel and the souk. The largest in the city, her father’s home overlooked the open-air market. He was the richest man with the biggest mansion. Both titles filled her father with the kind of twisted pride that consumed the poor and defenseless without regret. He never gave it any thought, but it troubled Rusha. Human or beast, she cared for the ones that lived at the bottom of society. Maybe that’s why her best friends were always the barely-alive creatures that she worked so hard to heal.
Rusha cut through the market, careful to browse through the wares long enough for her father’s bodyguard to wake up from his nap, look around, and then resume his observation of her. He’d been assigned to her that morning when the rest had taken to the streets to resume their hunt for Santi. It had been the perfect time to drop a powder packet into the guard’s drink and slip away.
Rusha purchased a length of thickly woven fabric from the rag seller. The swath would add to her future disguise and work well as a wrap for her hair. Then she pressed a large tip into the hand of the old woman that had warned Santi to run.
She had been watching Santi and Frango for a long time, and the young man and his chicken were integral to her plans. Only… Santi didn’t know it yet.
To Be Continued…
In another story…
Another time.
The End
About the Author
Bokerah Brumley lives on ten permaculture acres, complete with sheep, goats, peacocks, turkeys, geese, guineas, ducks, chickens, five home-educated children, and one husband. She serves as the president of the Cisco Writers Club and moonlights as an acquisitions editor for The Crossover Alliance.
For more information and a complete list of published works, please visit: www.bokerah.com
Bokerah has a busy year planned with lots of new novel releases.
Join the most awesome group of people in her world here: http://eepurl.com/b4r2Lr
Thank You
Thank you for reading what twenty authors hatched during quarantine.
I hope this has inspired you to read more of these authors’s works!
As always, we thank you for taking time to buy our work and read our words.
~Bokerah Brumley (and chicken-loving friends!)
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