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For Paul and Mira—Sibley Miller
For Zoe, who remains my favorite “fairy walk” companion
—Tara Larsen Chang
For Kandis and Sherry of Roze-El Stables, for opening my door to the world of horses
—Jo Gershman
A Doozy of a Dandelion
The pretty meadow behind Leanna’s yellow farmhouse and big red barn had wildflowers, trees, animals, and insects. Yet, Leanna didn’t feel happy in her new home.
“All I’ve got are a bunch of birds and bees, dragonflies and dandelions,” Leanna said to herself. “No friends yet.”
Just then, one of the meadow’s many dandelions brushed against her leg. Leanna looked down at it in surprise. This dandelion was a doozy! It was very tall and its bloom was as big as a hen’s egg.
With some effort, Leanna broke its stem. Then—because what else do you do with a dandelion?—she took a breath, and blew.
The dandelion unleashed a storm of seeds. But some of them—four, to be exact—didn’t look like dandelion seeds at all.
They looked, amazingly, like … horses!
Like very tiny horses. Very tiny flying horses! Horses with sparkling wings.
Leanna gasped and began running after the little, fluttering creatures.
One of the horses was tawny pink with coral and turquoise wings. Another had a lovely sea-green mane and tail. A third looked like sunlight, all gold and orange. And the last had a violet-black coat, with pretty white socks on her front legs.
As the horses flew upward, they looked like they were dancing on the wind.
“Oh!” Leanna cried. “You’re so pretty!”
But the horses didn’t seem to hear her. Instead, they flew on, whinnying happily. Then, suddenly—like soap bubbles that had popped—they disappeared.
“Where’d they go?” Leanna whispered to herself, squinting up at the sky.
Maybe I just dreamed them up, she thought, biting her lip.
But then Leanna looked at the dandelion stem, still clutched in her fist.
“I know they were real,” she said aloud.
She peered into the sky one last time, wondering why the horses had disappeared. She wondered, too, if she would ever see them again.
CHAPTER 1
Dancing on the Wind
The first thing the tiny winged horse heard was a whooshing of wind in her ears.
The first thing she felt was a breeze ruffling her long purple mane.
The first thing she smelled? The grass and sun-kissed flowers.
But the best part of the filly’s very first moments were the things she saw. Because what she saw were colors. Her colors.
The violet-black and white of her front legs, pumping through the air.
The shimmery purple of her wings. The bright tiny flowers that danced around her.
The little horse tossed her head and whinnied in excitement. But when the whinny came out, it was a word—“Kona!”
“Kona?” the little filly heard someone ask. “What’s a Kona?”
The voice came from behind her. With a flicker of her wings, the horse turned in the air. And that’s when she saw the most wonderful thing of all—one, no two, no three other tiny flying horses just like herself!
Each had colorful wings and long, shiny manes and tails, just like she did.
But they were different, too. One of the two fillies was silvery blue, with sea-green wings. The other one was the prettiest sunset pink, with a necklace of glimmering jewels.
The last of the winged horses, surprisingly, was a colt! He was long legged and fiery gold. Everywhere he flew, a halo of colorful little butterflies bobbled around him.
“Well?” the colt demanded. “Like I asked before—what’s a Kona?”
The violet-black horse cocked her head to think. Finally, she announced, “I think a Kona is … me! Kona must be my name!”
“Really?” asked the silver-blue filly. “How do you know?”
“I … I just do!” Kona said with a smile.
“Then can you tell me my name?” the pretty pink horse asked. “I don’t know it.”
“I bet you do know your name,” Kona assured her. “You just don’t know that you know it!”
“Huh?” said the silver-blue filly. “So does that mean I know my name, too?”
“Just close your eyes,” Kona told her new friends. She didn’t know if this was going to work. But since she’d been the first one to figure out her name, she pressed on.
“Now, feel the wind breezing through your mane,” Kona ordered.
“Hee!” The pink horse giggled. “That tickles!”
“Now, smell the sun on the grass,” Kona went on.
The golden horse’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. In fact, he breathed in so much air, he sucked in a gnat! He coughed, and finally sneezed the gnat out.
Kona tried not to laugh as she gave the other horses her next instruction: “Now, say the first word that comes to you.”
The sleek silver-blue horse’s eyes popped open. “Sumatra!” she cried out joyously. “Sumatra! That’s my name! I just know it!”
“That’s an elegant name!” said the pink horse. “Want to know mine?”
“Of course,” Sumatra said. “It’s Brisa,” the coral-pink filly answered, as she ducked her head shyly. “I think it’s a very pretty name, don’t you?”
“I’ve got mine!” the golden horse interrupted. “Apple Pie!”
“Apple Pie?” Sumatra said. “I think that’s a dessert, not a horse’s name.”
“What can I tell you?” the colt said. “It’s what popped into my head. I must be hungry!”
“Maybe,” Kona suggested gently, “you should try again.”
“Okay,” the golden horse agreed. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated.
Finally, he let out an explosive breath and, with it, a word: “Sirocco!”
He opened his eyes.
“That’s it! That’s it! Sirocco!” he brayed triumphantly. He looked down at the meadow and waved his hoof. “Hello, down there? My name’s Sirocco!”
“Who are you talking to?” Kona asked.
The three fillies glanced downward. They saw a young girl standing alone, looking puzzled. She was holding a dandelion stem and peering up into the sky. She looked nice, but sad.
Kona used her own hoof to wave to the girl. As she did, she noticed that the halo of flowers dancing around her waved as well!
But the girl didn’t seem to notice, because she called out, “Come back!”
“No problem!” Sirocco replied. Batting his wings extra hard, he darted downward until he fluttered a few feet above the girl’s head.
But the girl still didn’t react.
“You guys,” Kona said breathlessly. “This is really strange. That girl? I don’t think she can s
ee us! And I don’t know why!”
CHAPTER 2
A Big Surprise
“What do you mean she can’t see us?” Sumatra gazed at the girl in the dandelion meadow. “We’re right here!”
“Weird!” Sirocco said with a nicker.
“Maybe,” Kona added thoughtfully, “weird isn’t the word for it.”
“But it is weird,” Brisa insisted. “How can that girl ignore us when we’re so pretty?”
To emphasize her point, Brisa spun in the air. The jewels on her halo shone like a necklace, and her blond mane shimmered.
Kona swallowed a laugh and said, “I don’t think she means to ignore us. But something’s making us invisible to her.”
“Invisible!” Sirocco said. His eyes went wide. “Does that mean we’re ghosts?”
“No,” Kona said excitedly. “More like something … enchanted. You know, like fairies.”
“Oh, please,” Sumatra snorted. “What’s so enchanted about flying horses?”
“Okay,” Kona challenged her. She pointed at a woodpecker flying nearby. “Check out that bird. Do you notice anything about him?”
“He flies,” Sumatra noted, “just like us.”
“But do you see what’s different from us?” Kona asked.
Sumatra shrugged.
“There are no butterflies or flowers dancing around him,” Kona said, answering her own question and motioning at the halos that surrounded Sirocco and herself. “No ribbons or jewels either,” she added, pointing at Sumatra’s and Brisa’s halos.
Sumatra gasped. For the first time, she noticed that a ring of fluttering ribbons was floating around her, following her every move. Brisa, too, saw that she was surrounded by a halo of jewels.
“You’re right!” Brisa squealed.
“So,” Sumatra asked, “do you think it’s these halos that are making us invisible?”
“I do,” Kona said. As she nodded, she spotted a horse paddock on the far edge of the dandelion meadow.
“Look!” Kona said to her pals. “There are more of us over there!”
“Do you think the little girl can see them?” Sumatra wondered.
“Let’s go over and ask ’em,” Sirocco said.
The four tiny horses took off. But as they approached the paddock, Kona frowned. Something about these horses wasn’t right. To start with—they had no wings!
What’s more, the horses were enormous.
“What kind of strange horses are they?” Sumatra asked her friends.
She asked the question so loudly that one of the wingless horses—a pretty chestnut mare munching on hay—pricked up her ears and snorted.
“I should ask you pip-squeaks the same thing,” she said. “I’ve heard of miniature horses, but this is ridiculous!”
“Hey!” Sirocco said. “Who are you calling ridiculous?”
Before the mare could answer, a gelding galloped over.
“Those are the weirdest-looking flies I’ve ever seen!” he whinnied to the mare. “Want me to get ’em with my tail?”
He raised his giant, brushy black tail.
“Eeek!” Brisa neighed. She flew to Kona and hid behind her. “He’s going to swat us!”
At the sound of Brisa’s frightened whinny, the gelding cocked his head.
“Hey, those little buzzy things are horses,” he said to the mare.
Kona cringed. These huge horses didn’t seem to like them very much. But Kona needed answers. So, she politely pressed on.
“Sorry to bother you,” she said, “but are you invisible to girls like we are?”
“Are you kidding?” The gelding laughed. “Not only can girls see us, they love us. They feed us and brush our coats and ride us. Too bad you’re too puny—not to mention invisible—for all that!”
Now, a spotted gray filly trotted over.
“So what if they are puny,” she said to the gelding. “I think they’re neat. I wouldn’t mind being invisible myself every now and then.”
Then she turned to Kona and her friends.
“You guys aren’t like any horses I’ve ever seen,” she said admiringly. “You fly.”
“Well, sure!” Sirocco said. “How else are we supposed to get around?”
“Young fellow,” the mare said haughtily, “horses walk. Or canter, trot, or gallop. We even jump. But horses do not fly.”
“Then what does that make us?” Sumatra demanded.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” the mare said. “And I don’t care to help a huffy one like you figure it out, either!”
Turning around abruptly, the mare, and then the gelding, strutted back to the other side of the paddock.
But the young gray filly stayed put. She gazed up at Kona and her friends.
“I think I know what you are,” she whispered. “I think you’re … enchanted.”
“Wow!” said Brisa, exchanging delighted grins with her friends. “Kona was right!”
“No wonder the little girl can’t see us,” Sirocco yelled joyously. “We’re no ordinary horses. We’re magic!”
CHAPTER 3
Magic in the Air
“I can’t believe we’re magic!” Sumatra shouted.
“We’re totally unique!” Brisa cried. She spun around in the air.
“I’m king of the world!” Sirocco crowed, doing a backflip.
“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Kona said.
Sirocco stopped, mid-flip.
“Are you telling me that you’re not excited about being magic?” he demanded of Kona.
“Of course I’m excited!” Kona said. “But I’m also curious. I mean, what do magic horses do? Why are we here? What’s our purpose?”
“I have a question of my own,” Sirocco said. “What would be more fun? Talking about what we do, or going off and doing it?”
Flitting her wings, Brisa rose high above the others and gazed down at the farms and fields, forests and streams beneath them.
“It is a beautiful world out there,” she said. “I’d like to see it.”
“And I want to test out my magic,” Sumatra declared. “You know, to see what I can do with my ribbon-y halo!”
Kona nudged one of the flowers in her magical halo and laughed as it wiggled around, tickling her.
“Okay, guys,” she said. “You have a point—”
“’Nuff said!” Sirocco cried. “Look out, world! Here we come!”
He fluttered his wings so hard, they buzzed. Then he zipped off.
Kona turned to Brisa and Sumatra.
“Well, he’s sure in a hur—”
Zzzzzippp!
Before she could finish saying “hurry,” Sumatra had darted off, too!
And Brisa? Where was Brisa? Kona looked around wildly. Then she glanced up to see her resting on a cloud.
“Ooh, I just love being magic, don’t you?” Brisa called.
Before Kona could answer, Brisa disappeared into the cloud.
And just like that, Kona was all alone.
But then, one of the flowers in her halo caught her eye. Kona couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the flower was winking at her.
“Brisa, Sumatra, and Sirocco are right. Being magic is fun!” Kona said to herself. She let her wings hum and darted forward. “C’mon, flowers. Let’s see what we can do!”
CHAPTER 4
Bunches of Butterflies
Sirocco was so excited, he couldn’t fly straight.
Not that he considered flying straight to be very important. It was much more fun to do flips, loop-de-loops, and spirals as he flew.
He felt like he could fly all day.
Well, he could if he wasn’t so hungry.
“I need fuel!” Sirocco announced to himself. “Something sweet. And crunchy. And juicy. Hey!”
Sirocco had just spotted a leafy tree in the center of the meadow. It was covered with big, red, shiny—
“Apples!” Sirocco shouted.
He dove down to the tree. Its fruit was almost as big as h
e was! Sirocco took a big bite out of one of the apples.
“Yum-o!” Sirocco chomped until he’d nibbled the apple down to its core.
“Aaah, I’m finally full,” he said.
He was so full, in fact, that he felt kind of heavy. And sort of sleepy. And before he knew it—
Sirocco had toppled out of the apple tree—right into a bush covered with flowers!
“Whoa!” Sirocco cried. The impact popped several tiny butterflies right out of his halo. They flapped and fluttered indignantly for a moment. Then they recovered and flew over to the bush’s purple flowers. Immediately, they began dipping into the flowers and drinking nectar.
“Hey, butterflies!” Sirocco complained. “You left a hole in my halo. Come back!”
Fizz! Fizz! Fizz!
Sirocco jumped. No sooner had he ordered his butterflies to return to him than new ones appeared in his halo.
“Wow!” Sirocco said. “Look at that! Not only can I pop butterflies out of my halo, I can fizz up new ones!”
Sirocco kicked some more butterflies out of his halo. Pop, pop, pop. And more fizzed in. Fizz, fizz, fizz!
“This is incredible,” Sirocco cried. “I wonder how many butterflies I can make. A dozen? Fifty? A hundred? Why not?”
With that, Sirocco popped out a swarm of magic butterflies. It was only then that he noticed—he and his butterflies weren’t alone.
There were other butterflies drinking nectar out of the bush’s flowers. They weren’t magic—they were orange and black and real.
“Hi, there!” Sirocco called to the closest real butterfly. It glared at Sirocco.
“Sorry to drop in so suddenly,” Sirocco said with a silly grin. “What kind of bush is this?”
“This is a butterfly bush,” the butterfly said brusquely.
“No wonder my little guys like it so much,” Sirocco said.
If Wishes Were Horses Page 1
