From Embers

27 - Stop, Drop, and Roll

Every day since that day, Mara tried to fill the hole inside her, but with no avail. For the first week, she hid in her room, refusing to eat and cried enough tears for two lifetimes. The sadness had ebbed away into the pure feeling of nothingness with each passing day. Mara's personal sport of smashing anything her hands touched was soon banned. After several stern words from her grandfather and getting bored of cleaning up the messes, she chose to spend her time better terrorising her uncle. This morning Nilos had found his bed infested with crickets and flown into a rage, which led Mara to where she was now; hiding in the courtyard. She'd been quite proud of her prank; it had taken three days of searching to collect enough bugs.

Hair flowing wild, unbrushed for days, Mara threw pebbles at any birds who made the mistake of perching nearby. They squawked angrily, flying away to nurse their wounds.

"Stupid Nilos," she grumbled to no one, "it was only a stupid prank. Stupid day, stupid birds. Why is it so sunny?"

As if the sky had heard and wanted to help the grieving girl, clouds gathered overhead. A thick blanket of rain poured out. But, it didn't comfort her. Knowing who was inside and the scolding that awaited her, she decided to wait out the storm in the stables.

The bush she was hiding behind did little to prevent her from getting soaked. A leaf tickled her nose. Mara sneezed. "Stupid rain."

All the workers were gone; where Mara didn't know, nor did she care. The fewer eyes around to tattle on her whereabouts, the better. Slipping through the unlocked door, Mara tiptoed through the walkway. The animals paid her no attention as they nibbled on mounds of hay. Standing on her toes, Mara peered over a green gate. She grabbed stray pieces of straw from the floor and held it out, palm flat. A brown-haired horse trotted towards her, its soft nose grazing her hand as it nibbled the food.

"That's a nice horse," Mara whispered. She looked up, spotting a wooden sign which read, STANLEY, painted in red. Gripping the gate, it wobbled when Mara pulled herself up, jumping over. Although she landed lightly, the horse's ears pressed against its head. "I won't eat you, I promise. Never much liked the taste of horse blood anyway." Holding her hand out again, she allowed the beast to sniff it. "Maybe it's all the hay you eat. Nasty stuff, I tried to chew it once. I'll don't understand how you enjoy eating it, Stanley, I really don't."

The horse's snout pressed into her palm. The natural curls that made up Stanley's coat felt as soft as they looked. "We have the same hair." The girl giggled, running fingers through her curls.

The puddle underneath Mara was growing as her clothing dripped. "Sorry I'm so wet. I don't mean to make a mess of your room. Pinky promise it'll dry soon, just let me stay here. Please."

Stanley nudged her, shaking his head.

"The stupid adults are boring, and I like your company better. My name is Mara Madin, and I know that you're Stanley. My parents were never married, so I inherited Grandfather's last name. Now that we both know each other's names, we're friends. Friends help each other out. I only want to wait out the storm."

Neighing, the horse nuzzled against her. Mara gave him a last pat before tottering off to sit on the massive pile of hay situated in the corner of the stall. She walked carefully as to avoid stepping in clumps of excrement littered around. "This place is a little messy. My mother would never let me keep my room like this. Is your mother still around, Stanley? Mine isn't." Tears pricked her eyes.

Stanley wasn't much of a talker, and since she couldn't speak horse, Mara lay down. "Don't think I'm food and nibble me," she warned, wiping tears from her cheeks.

Mara closed her eyes. The smell of musty wood and dust filled her nose. Lingering whiffs of sweat from the workers made her gag. Wrinkling her nose, she focused on the flies buzzing and the whack of horsetails swatting them away. The gusts of wind picked up outside, and an open gate creaked as it swung back and forth.