Hungry as a Horse

by Sibley Miller

  The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Meet the Wind Dancers

  CHAPTER 1: If You Give a Horse a Muffin …

  CHAPTER 2: Accidentally Appetizing

  CHAPTER 3: A Gourmet Goof

  CHAPTER 4: (Not So) Marvelous Mushrooms

  CHAPTER 5: Food Fit for a … Squirrel?

  CHAPTER 6: The Great Wind Dancer Cook-Off

  And a Tasty Good Night!

  Preview: A Horse’s Best Friend

  Copyright

  For Mose and Lewis—Sibley Miller

  To the painters of Bumping Lake for warm encouragement, sharp-eyed criticism, and fabulous meals

  —Tara Larsen Chang and Jo Gershman

  Meet the Wind Dancers

  One day, a little girl named Leanna blows on a doozy of a dandelion. To her delight and surprise, four tiny horses spring from the puff of the dandelion seeds!

  Four tiny horses with shiny manes and shimmery wings. Four magical horses who can fly!

  Dancing on the wind, surrounded by magic halos, they are the Wind Dancers.

  The leader of the quartet is Kona. She has a violet-black coat and vivid purple mane, and she flies inside a halo of magical flowers.

  Brisa is as pretty as a tropical sunset with her coral-pink color and blonde mane and tail. Magical jewels make up Brisa’s halo, and she likes to admire her gems (and herself) every time she looks in a mirror.

  Sumatra is silvery blue with sea-green wings. Much like the ocean, she can shift from calm to stormy in a hurry! Her magical halo is made up of ribbons, which flutter and dance as she flies.

  The fourth Wind Dancer is—surprise!—a colt. His name is Sirocco. He’s a fiery gold, and he likes to go-go-go. Everywhere he goes, his magical halo of butterflies goes, too.

  The tiny flying horses live together in the dandelion meadow in a lovely house carved out of the trunk of an apple tree. Every day, Leanna wishes she’ll see the magical little horses again. (She’s sure they’re nearby, but she doesn’t know they’re invisible to people.) And the Wind Dancers get ready for their next adventure.

  CHAPTER 1

  If You Give a Horse a Muffin …

  It was morning in the Wind Dancers’ apple tree house, and that meant Sirocco was on clean-up duty from an apple muffin breakfast.

  First, he took the breakfast dishes to the water trough and scrubbed them splashily. (Kona sighed good-naturedly and dried the floor with a dandelion fluff mop. Sirocco didn’t notice.)

  Then, Sirocco used his teeth to stack the breakfast plates on a shelf. (He also failed to spot Brisa straightening them into a neater, prettier stack.)

  Finally, the golden colt blew all the crumbs off the table with a few gusts of hot breath. (And once again, he didn’t have any idea that Sumatra had swept the crumbs from the floor with her pale green tail.)

  With his chores finished, Sirocco blew his yellow-gold forelock out of his eyes and said, “Whew! What’s on the menu for our mid-morning snack?”

  Kona gaped.

  Brisa gasped.

  But Sumatra spoke up!

  “Mid-morning snack?” she asked. “You still have apple muffin crumbs around your mouth from breakfast!”

  “I know, but look at this kitchen!” Sirocco said. “It’s sparkling! And all because of my hard work.”

  “Oh, really? Your hard work?” Sumatra asked dryly, while Brisa tittered and Kona rolled her coal-black eyes.

  “Well, of course!” the clueless colt said innocently. “And hard work always makes me extra hungry!”

  Then he turned to Kona.

  “You know,” he said generously, “I don’t need something different for my snack. I’ll just take a couple more of those yummy muffins you made for breakfast. We’ll call it seconds.”

  “More like fourths!” Kona said. “Besides, there aren’t any muffins left from breakfast. Not after you ate three whole ones already! You eat food as fast as I can make it.”

  “Hmm,” Sirocco said, pondering this problem. Then, his brown eyes lit up!

  “I have a solution!” he said. “Sumatra and Brisa should help you more often with the cooking. Then you could make more food!”

  The three fillies gaped at each other.

  Brisa’s always-sunny face clouded over.

  Sumatra’s eyes went from pale green to stormy turquoise.

  And the flowers in Kona’s magic halo—which usually bounced cheerfully around her—trembled in fury.

  “I have a better solution,” the violet-black Wind Dancer said to Sirocco through gritted teeth. “How about you start doing some cooking yourself?”

  “Me?!” Sirocco squawked.

  “Yes, you!” Brisa chimed.

  “Please,” Sirocco scoffed. He clopped his (not terribly clean) front hooves on the table. “Isn’t it enough that I help with the cleaning up around here? I’m not going to cook, too. That’s filly’s work! I’m a colt!”

  “Oh, he didn’t just say that, did he?” Sumatra neighed to Brisa.

  “He did!” Brisa gasped in disbelief.

  Kona shook her head and looked to the heavens. Then she spoke to Sirocco with a quiet chill in her voice.

  “If that’s how you feel,” she said to the suddenly nervous colt, “maybe you should go off and have your own adventure today. I’m sure whatever we fillies want to do would be too girly for you.”

  “Oh, come on!” Sirocco protested. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Then you didn’t mean that cooking was ‘filly’s work’?” Kona asked.

  “I just meant,” Sirocco’s eyes went shifty, as he searched for a way to get his hoof out of his mouth. “I just meant that you fillies cook so much better than me. For your own sakes, you should be the ones to do it!”

  “I’m sure we could manage to choke down your cooking, somehow,” Sumatra offered sweetly—while Kona snorted and Brisa bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  Sirocco stared at his friends. He knew they were teasing him. They were trying to make him cook something.

  And they probably wouldn’t stop teasing him until he did cook something.

  And then there was the matter of his hungry belly …

  Grumble-grumble-groooowwwwwl.

  The sounds of Sirocco’s hunger were unmistakable.

  “Oh, fine!” Sirocco blustered to the fillies. “You want me to cook, I’ll cook! I just hope my food doesn’t make you turn green!”

  “That won’t be a problem for me!” Sumatra giggled, tossing her sea-green mane.

  “Har, har, har,” Sirocco said with an eye roll. Then he clopped over to the pantry and began to pull out whatever random foods he spotted—some honey, apples, a rutabaga or two, oats, barley, and cornmeal.

  As he gazed at the ingredients, a flutter of fear replaced the hunger in his belly. He really had no idea what to do with them!

  On the other hand, he couldn’t back down from Kona’s challenge! So—while the three amused fillies watched—Sirocco grabbed some wooden bowls and baking tins. He gripped a spoon between his teeth. And then he dove in.

  Rutabaga peels and flour flew.

  Barley skittered across the wood floor.

  Honey dripped onto Sirocco’s hair and cornmeal crunched beneath his hooves.

  He chopped and diced. He stirred and sautéed. He kneaded and baked. Finally—breathing heavily and shaking sweat off hi
s brow—Sirocco presented his friends with a snack.

  CHAPTER 2

  Accidentally Appetizing

  Brisa’s eyes filled with fear as she took a tiny nibble of Sirocco’s snack—a pan of mushy stuff topped with a sort of crumble.

  But the filly didn’t spit or gag or even grimace. She smiled!

  “It’s really yummy!” she rejoiced, taking another, and bigger, bite.

  “What?!” Kona and Sumatra cried at the same time.

  Nobody was more surprised than Sirocco himself! He edged the fillies out of the way and took a huge bite. Then he gasped as he tasted a pleasing crunch, a delicious sweetness, an aromatic fruitiness!

  “Ew, Sirocco!” Brisa protested. “Don’t gasp with your mouth full!”

  “Full of what is what I want to know,” Sumatra said, as she got her own blissful taste of the dish.

  “Um, rutabagas, apples, oats, and some other crunchy stuff!” Sirocco listed, still stunned by the dish’s success. He took another large, delicious bite. “Let’s call it Apple Rutabaga Crunch.”

  The colt’s smile grew.

  “No, scratch that,” he said, tossing his gold mane proudly. “Let’s call it Sirocco’s Awesome Apple Rutabaga Crunch! Who knew that deep down, I was actually a brilliant chef?!”

  Sirocco proved his point by taking another enormous bite of his amazing snack.

  “Mmmm, squish, yum, yum, chomp,” Sirocco moaned as he chewed with his mouth open again.

  “I don’t know which is more obnoxious,” Sumatra said to Kona and Brisa. “Sirocco’s table manners or his big head!”

  “Oh, please,” Kona said, taking her own bite of Crunch. “This yummy snack was clearly a case of beginner’s luck.”

  “Luck, you say? No way!” Sirocco replied. “I clearly have a natural talent for cooking. One that’s been undiscovered until now!”

  Sumatra snorted (even as she helped herself to another delicious morsel of Awesome Apple Rutabaga Crunch).

  “Oh, you don’t agree?” Sirocco challenged her. “How about we have a contest? A cook-off!”

  “Ooh,” Sumatra breathed to Kona and Brisa with a mischievous smile. “Imagine how satisfying it would be for one of us to beat the horseshoes off of Sirocco in this contest!”

  Kona nodded eagerly and turned to the colt.

  “You’re on!” she said. “We’ll each cook a dish and then decide whose is the best.”

  But Sirocco shook his head.

  “Too easy,” he scoffed. “I can beat all three of you put together.”

  Brisa sighed.

  Kona seethed.

  And Sumatra simmered.

  The fillies barely had to glance at each other to agree to Sirocco’s dare.

  “You want three to one—us against you?” Kona asked the colt. “You’ve got it! The Great Wind Dancer Cook-Off begins now!”

  CHAPTER 3

  A Gourmet Goof

  All the Wind Dancers could almost taste the sweetness of victory. And they couldn’t wait to get started on their foodie adventure.

  The three fillies put their noses together and began whispering about recipes and ingredients.

  Sirocco overheard Sumatra suggest corn, and Kona ponder parsnips. Brisa was all about pretty, Pink Lady apples.

  “Oh, please!” Sirocco sniffed to the fillies. “Those ingredients are so ordinary, so everyday, so … horsy! A truly great chef cooks with strange spices, exotic vegetables, and fabulous fruits!”

  “Well, then,” Sumatra said snippily, “why don’t you go off and find yourself some of those ‘exotic’ ingredients so we can get started on our cooking?”

  “Gladly!” Sirocco declared with a smug grin. He neighed good-bye to his friends and fluttered out of the apple tree house.

  Right away, he noticed something shimmering in the dandelion meadow just below him.

  “Hmmm!” Sirocco murmured to himself. The curious colt couldn’t help but swoop down for a look. And when he did, he happened upon a bustling family of grasshoppers!

  Every one of the insects was munching happily on dandelion leaves.

  Sirocco had blown on tons of dandelion puffs and admired hundreds of yellow dandelion blooms, but never once had he thought to taste the weeds’ spiky leaves!

  He took a big chomp out of a dandelion leaf. It was delicately bitter and subtly spicy—it was delicious!

  “Who knew?” Sirocco said. Right away, he began using his teeth to pluck leaf after leaf from the meadow’s many dandelions.

  “A dandelion green salad is the perfect way to start the Cook-Off,” Sirocco said to himself proudly. “After all, dandelions were the start of us Wind Dancers!”

  Sirocco tied up a bunch of leaves with a long dandelion stem. Then he tucked the greens under the sash he wore around his neck.

  “But now,” Sirocco said to himself as he fluttered into the air, “my bitter salad needs something sweet. Any chef knows that in great food, balance is everything!”

  But what sweet something should he get? He needed something way more fabulous and edgy than the Wind Dancers’ usual apples, blackberries, and honey—

  Honk! Honkhonkhonkhonk!

  Sirocco was startled out of his pondering by a big V of geese flapping, honking, and grinning excitedly over his head.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Sirocco called to the geese as they rushed past.

  One goose slowed her flapping for a moment to scoff at Sirocco.

  “Don’t you know?” she asked in a high, squeaky honk. “The gooseberries are ripe! Every goose and gander around here is going to the feast.”

  “Gooseberries!” Sirocco said. “What are those?”

  “Only the most succulent, delicious berry ever,” the goose said.

  “Then they’re the perfect ingredient for my bitter dandelion green salad!” Sirocco exclaimed. “Lead the way, friend!”

  Suddenly, the chatty goose balked.

  “B-but,” she protested, “they’re gooseberries. We get first crack at them!”

  “What?” Sirocco said. “That’s no fair!”

  “Welllllll,” the goose glanced around sneakily, “I guess it’s a free meadow. Just follow our V to the gooseberry bushes. But you didn’t hear it from me!”

  “Deal!” Sirocco said, cackling with satisfaction.

  See? he told himself as he snuck behind another goose and coasted in its tailwind. Only a great chef would go to such lengths to find his ingredients. Wait ’til the fillies taste my salad!

  Before Sirocco knew it, he found himself within a throng of geese, all nipping small, juicy, red berries from a thicket of spiky bushes.

  He used his teeth to pluck two perfect gooseberries, and tucked them between his forelegs. He was just scoping around for more when he heard a loud honk right next to him.

  It was loud and angry.

  “What are yooooou doing here?” said this goose.

  “Urn,” Sirocco said, “I’m gathering gooseberries, just like you?”

  “But they’re gooseberries,” the goose honked. “You’re no goose! You’re a strange little horse!”

  “I’m a chef!” Sirocco defended himself loudly. “Besides, it’s a free meadow!”

  Honk! Honkhonkhonkhonk!

  Apparently, Sirocco had attracted the attention of several other geese, too.

  Who will surely see things my way, right? Sirocco asked himself nervously.

  Wrong!

  “The gooseberries are ouuuuuurrrrs!” the geese honked. They began to lunge at Sirocco!

  “Aigh!” Sirocco neighed. Luckily, he was faster than the berry-stuffed geese and able to dart away.

  “You’re not very friendly, are you?” Sirocco scolded them. “Friends share!”

  “Ouuuuuuuurrrrs!” the geese honked back. They began flapping into the air to chase him!

  “I’m going to take these berries back to my kitchen if it’s the last thing I do!” Sirocco shouted at the geese with a mischievous grin.

  “Ooouuuuurrrrss!” th
e geese insisted.

  Then they began flapping their wings harder. And faster. And the closer they got to Sirocco, the bigger they looked!

  “Wh-wh-whoa!” Sirocco whinnied.

  He had no choice but to flee!

  CHAPTER 4

  (Not So) Marvelous Mushrooms

  Only by flying racehorse-fast did Sirocco escape the gooseberry-hogging geese. But escape he did! He ducked into the forest and hid between a couple of tree roots.

  When he was sure the coast was clear, Sirocco cackled.

  “Greedy geese!” he whinnied. “At least I still have my two perfect gooseberries!”

  Sirocco looked triumphantly at his forelegs—and gasped!

  “Oh, no!” he neighed. His berries were gone! All that was left of them was a smudge of red juice staining his white socks!

  “I must have dropped them when I was escaping!” Sirocco cried. “I can’t go back for them now!”

  Sirocco slumped against his tree root in despair. But instead of feeling scratchy bark against his flank, he felt spongy, velvety smoothness!

  “Huh?” Sirocco said.

  He spun around to discover a slightly flattened … “Mushroom!” Sirocco cried.

  The wide-brimmed fungus was a lovely tan color—and it was surrounded by at least a dozen more just like it.

  “I can make a meal of wild mushrooms!” Sirocco exclaimed.

  His lost berries forgotten, Sirocco plucked up three pretty mushrooms. Then he flitted along the forest floor, scanning every mossy log and stone for more.

  It only took him a few minutes to spot some long-stemmed, cream-colored ones growing next to a creek!

  “Hot dog!” Sirocco cried as he swooped down to add a few to his mushroom stash.

  “Hot head is more like it!” said a squeaky voice behind Sirocco. The Wind Dancer colt whirled around and saw a brown field mouse looking at him skeptically.

  “What do you mean, ‘hot head’?” Sirocco demanded of the mouse.