Horse Happy Read online

  “Hey!” he complained. Angrily, he kicked the jewel out of his way.

  “Ow!”

  This time, it was Sumatra who cried out—as the sparkling gem hit her right in the flank!

  Sumatra dropped her berry basket on the floor and whirled around to glare at Sirocco. Her nostrils flared.

  “Why are you mad at me?” she demanded of Sirocco.

  “Huh?” Sirocco said absently. He was too busy frowning at his hurt hoof to even notice that the jewel had thwacked Sumatra.

  “I said,” Sumatra said irritably, “why did you kick that jewel at me? It was Brisa who dropped it.”

  “Hmm?” Brisa said. She thought she’d heard her name. But when she looked behind her, she only saw Sumatra glaring at Sirocco, and Sirocco glaring at his hoof. So she just shrugged and turned back to her mirror.

  Meanwhile, Sumatra was getting more and more angry.

  “Sirocco!” she said, galloping across the kitchen to get closer to the colt. “Are you even listening to me?”

  She clopped her hoof on the wooden floor to get Sirocco’s attention.

  “Sumatra!”

  That was Kona. She was standing at the trough, pointing at the floor beneath Sumatra’s hooves.

  “You’re squashing my throw rug!” Kona said exasperatedly.

  Sumatra looked down. She was indeed trampling one of the pretty flower rugs that Kona had created for every room of the Wind Dancers’ home. Sumatra frowned.

  “Well, why’d you put your flowers on the floor,” she asked Kona, “if you didn’t want anybody to step on them?”

  “Stepping on them is okay,” Kona said. “Stomping the living daylights out of them is not okay!”

  “Oh, whatever!” Sumatra scoffed. “They’re flowers. They’ll grow back!”

  To prove her point, she stomped on the rug some more.

  “Hey!” Kona yelled.

  “Grrrr,” Sumatra growled.

  “Owwwww!” Sirocco groaned.

  And Brisa?

  Comb, comb, comb …

  “Okay, great!” she whispered to herself excitedly. “I think I’ve finally got just the right look for the blackberry patch.”

  Brisa had woven pink, silver, and blue gems into her mane. And, what’s more, she’d alternated them with sleek little braids.

  She turned away from her mirror and looked at her friends. Sirocco was bent over, still hurting.

  Kona and Sumatra were glaring at each other.

  And the berry basket and the sudsy feed buckets had been completely forgotten.

  “Aren’t you horses ready yet?” Brisa asked with surprise. She trotted across the kitchen and scooped up the empty berry basket. “Gee, and you guys say that I’m the one who makes us late!”

  The other Wind Dancers gaped at her. Then they glanced at each other and shook their heads.

  “Oh, Brisa!” Sirocco muttered with a rueful laugh.

  “What?” Brisa asked brightly.

  “I think what Sirocco meant to say,” Kona interjected with a weary smile, “was that you’re right, Brisa. We’d best get going.”

  “Yay!” Brisa cried, fluttering her wings and heading for the kitchen window. “The blackberries await!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Lost Cause

  As the Wind Dancers flew toward the blackberry patch, they weren’t as excited as they usually were.

  Sirocco was still groaning over his hurt hoof.

  Sumatra was still wincing over her bruised flank.

  Kona was still scowling as she thought about how hard she’d worked on the kitchen’s flowery rug.

  And Brisa?

  “La, la, la!” she sang. “Isn’t it a beautiful morning, you guys?”

  “What’d you say?” Sirocco said. He glanced over at Brisa. As he did, he absent-mindedly veered off his flight path—and drifted into Sumatra’s way!

  To avoid crashing into Sirocco, Sumatra reared back, whinnying dramatically.

  “Watch where you’re going!” she yelled at Sirocco. “All I need is another injury from you.”

  “The way you fly?” Sirocco retorted grumpily. “I’d be the one in need of the ice pack.”

  “Now, now, you two,” Kona interjected. Trying hard to stay cheery, she quickly changed the subject.

  “Hey, look!” she said. “We’ve reached the forest. We’re halfway there. Follow me to the blackberry patch!”

  Kona turned to the right and began flying along the edge of the woods. Brisa skimmed along behind her, still humming to herself, and Sirocco followed. But Sumatra stopped short, fluttering her wings in irritation.

  When Kona realized that Sumatra wasn’t following, she came to a halt herself.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked Sumatra.

  “I’m just wondering why you’re always the leader,” Sumatra said grumpily.

  “Sumatra,” Kona declared, “we know the blackberry patch is on the other side of the forest. The only way to go is around the trees.”

  “We could go through the forest,” Sumatra countered. “It’d be much quicker.”

  “It’d also be a great way to get lost,” Kona pointed out.

  “Maybe we just need a new guide,” Sumatra suggested sassily.

  “Fine!” Kona said with a look of surprise. “If you know so much, you lead the way.”

  “Okay, I will!” Sumatra said with a satisfied grin.

  She turned and plunged into the trees. The other Wind Dancers flew behind her until, only a couple minutes later, Kona spoke up.

  “Don’t you think we should veer north?” she asked Sumatra. “At this rate, we’re going to end up a mile from the blackberry bushes.”

  “See!” Sumatra burst out. She came to a halt. “I knew you couldn’t just let me lead the way. You’re bossy!”

  “Am not!” Kona retorted.

  Now Sirocco weighed in.

  “Actually, Kona,” he said, shooting Sumatra a mischievous wink, “you kind of, sort of are.”

  “Am not!” Kona insisted again.

  And Brisa?

  “La, la, la!” she sang as she admired the way the morning sun dappled the tree leaves. She barely took notice of Kona, Sumatra, and Sirocco.

  Until, that is, they got too loud not to be noticed.

  “Bossy!” Sirocco and Sumatra cried out together.

  “Am not!” Kona yelled.

  “Are too!” Sirocco and Sumatra replied.

  “Hmm,” Brisa said to herself. “This sounds kind of familiar.”

  But before she had a chance to ponder anymore, Sirocco broke in.

  “Okay,” he said to Kona. “If you want to prove that you can follow, follow me. Come on!”

  Sirocco zipped off on a route that was different from Sumatra’s and Kona’s. So they wouldn’t lose sight of him, the fillies had no choice but to dart after him.

  After ten minutes of veering around trees and leap-frogging over boulders, the Wind Dancers emerged on the other side of the forest.

  “See?” Sirocco announced to the fillies with a big grin. “Here we are!”

  “Um, actually,” Sumatra said, looking around, “I don’t see. There are no blackberry bushes here.”

  “She’s right,” Kona said, spinning in the air in search of the berry patch. “We’re lost! We should have gone my way.”

  “Or mine,” Sumatra sniped.

  “You’re both wrong,” Sirocco argued. “If you’ll just follow me, you’ll see that the patch is in this direction.”

  He pointed to the left.

  “No way!” Sumatra said. “It’s this way.”

  Meanwhile, Brisa went her own way.

  “La, la, la!” she sang cheerfully, as she flew along absent-mindedly. In fact, she flew so absent-mindedly that she careened into a big, leafy bush!

  A big, leafy bush with big, fat, juicy berries all over it!

  Brisa looked around. The bush was close to a babbling creek. It was clustered with a dozen more bushes just like it. And skittering an
d fluttering around all the bushes were squirrels, raccoons, birds, and bugs, all feasting on …

  “Blackberries!” Brisa cried.

  She flew back to the edge of the woods where she had last seen her friends.

  “The blackberry patch!” she shouted, doing a backflip in the air. “It’s right here!”

  Kona, Sirocco, and Sumatra flew over to join Brisa and stared in surprise. Brisa had expected them to be as elated as she was. Instead, they seemed sulky and grumpy.

  “You must be hungry after all that flying,” Brisa said to them. “Being hungry can make a horse cranky.”

  She whizzed over to her bush and plucked four plump berries. She passed one to each of her friends, then kept the fourth for herself. She took a big gushy bite.

  “See!” she said. “They’re so sweet. Don’t these berries make you feel great?”

  “Well, mine was pretty yummy,” Sirocco admitted grudgingly.

  “Juicy, too,” Sumatra added.

  “Indeed,” Kona said, with only a hint of frost in her voice.

  “See, we all agree!” Brisa said joyfully. “It’s lovely that we get along so well, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, Brisa!” Sumatra said, shaking her head and snorting.

  “What?” Brisa asked brightly.

  “I think what Sumatra meant,” Kona sighed, “was that we had better get started on our blackberry picking.”

  “Yay!” Brisa cried. Singing to herself, she began to fly from bush to bush, looking for the prettiest berries.

  Which is why she didn’t notice that the flowers in Kona’s halo were drooping. And why she didn’t see that Sumatra’s ribbon halo was sagging. And why she didn’t know that Sirocco’s butterflies were looking more frumpy than fluttery.

  “La, la, la,” Brisa warbled. “This is such a great day!”

  CHAPTER 4

  Berry Bickering

  Within minutes, the Wind Dancers were busy picking berries from Brisa’s bush. Kona buzzed around the bottom.

  “You find the most berries down here,” she pointed out to her friends, “because nobody thinks to look near the bottom of the bush.”

  Sirocco laughed.

  “Who cares about quantity?” he crowed. “I’m going for quality. And the biggest berries are the ones that get all the sun, the ones at the top!”

  “Oh, anybody can pick berries from the top or bottom of a bush,” Sumatra scoffed. She was rustling around deep inside the blackberry bush. “It’s the blackberries on the inside that are the best. They’re the juiciest, because they’ve been protected from scavengers.”

  She gave Kona and Sirocco pointed grins.

  Kona and Sirocco snorted dismissively—just as Brisa flew around from the back of the bush, cradling a few berries in a leaf.

  “Uh-oh, are you two catching colds?” she asked Kona and Sirocco.

  “No!” Sirocco blurted. “Why would you think that?”

  “I thought I heard you and Kona snorting,” Brisa answered cheerfully.

  Kona looked sheepish for a moment. But a triumphant whinny from Sumatra—who was still inside the blackberry bush—made her face go scowly.

  “I suppose you think you’ve found the perfect blackberry in there,” Kona called to Sumatra.

  Sumatra nodded and held out a plump berry for the other Wind Dancers to see.

  “It’s so juicy, you could drink it instead of eat it,” she boasted.

  Since Kona didn’t want to snort again, she merely rolled her eyes. Then she turned back to Brisa.

  “What do you think is best: picking the biggest berries, the juiciest berries, or the most berries?”

  “Oh, I don’t care,” Brisa said breezily, “as long as the berries are pretty! Look at these!”

  She held out her leaf full of berries. They were as shiny as deep purple jewels.

  “Aren’t they beautiful?” Brisa asked dreamily. “I almost hate to eat them!”

  “See?” Sirocco piped up from his perch at the top of the bush. “Brisa agrees with me. A few great berries are better than a lot of mediocre ones.”

  He cackled as he eyed Kona’s neat pile of berries on the ground next to the bush.

  “What’s mediocre about my berries?” Kona demanded. “They’re just fine!”

  “Hmm,” Sumatra said. She grinned as she peeked out of the bush to regard Kona’s berries. “They look a little dry to me.”

  Kona was trying to think up a clever reply when Brisa’s sweet, tinkly voice cut her off.

  “Hey!” Brisa called.

  She was waving at her friends from the bank of the nearby creek, cooling her hooves in the water. She’d laid out a picnic “blanket” of smooth green leaves and divided her stash of pretty berries into four even piles. “It’s time for our picnic!”

  Kona couldn’t help but smile at Brisa. She grabbed some of her own berries, turned her back on Sirocco and Sumatra, and went over to join Brisa.

  Sirocco’s berries were so big, he could only carry two of them over to the picnic blanket.

  “I’ll eat one and give the other to Brisa,” he whispered to himself. “If Kona and Sumatra think their berries are so great, they won’t be interested in mine anyway.”

  Sumatra grabbed four of her juiciest berries and began to fly them over to the creek, too.

  “These berries are super-duper juicy,” she murmured to herself proudly. “Sirocco and Kona are so going to wish they’d picked them.”

  Unfortunately, the berries were so juicy that they squished between Sumatra’s hooves before she’d even made it to the blanket. Juice spattered all over her forelegs and the ruined blackberries fell to the dirt with a splat!

  “Neeeiiiggh!”

  That was Sirocco, over by the creek. He was pointing at Sumatra’s wrecked berries and laughing uproariously.

  Sumatra’s nostrils flared. Her lips clamped together. She could feel her face going red.

  “This outing,” she grunted, “has become berry annoying!”

  * * *

  The Wind Dancers tried to be happy as they sat down to their blackberry lunch. But for everyone except Brisa, that was pretty hard to do.

  Sumatra ate Brisa’s pretty berries, but she deliberately avoided Kona’s “dry” ones.

  Sirocco chomped on his berries with his mouth open.

  “Rude!” Sumatra whispered—but not so quietly that Sirocco couldn’t hear.

  And Kona made the others wash their hooves in the creek before eating, which Sirocco thought was silly.

  “What’s the fun of a picnic if you can’t eat with dirty hooves?” he complained. “I like being dirty!”

  But mostly, the Wind Dancers picnicked in stony silence. Even Brisa couldn’t help but notice the tension.

  And when Brisa really thought about it, she started to realize something …

  She remembered how all three of her friends had looked as they hovered in the air at the edge of the woods, with their halos drooping.

  Were they all … fighting? Brisa wondered, her eyes going wide.

  But a moment later, she shook her head.

  That’s impossible, she assured herself. We’re a team. We’re the Wind Dancers, and we love each other. And if you love each other, you don’t fight!

  But just to make sure, Brisa decided to stay extra-close to her friends for the rest of the afternoon.

  “I’m going to be the berry messenger,” Brisa chirped to Kona, Sumatra, and Sirocco as they all flew back to the berry bushes.

  Kona gave Brisa a small smile.

  “That’s very sweet of you,” Kona said. “But are you sure? Picking berries is certainly more fun than hauling them to the basket.”

  “Which is why you should be happy!” Brisa cried, giving Kona a hug. “You get to do nothing but pick the berries all afternoon.”

  “I am happy,” Kona said. But the flowers in her magic halo were still wilted. And her voice was tense as she looked at both Sirocco and Sumatra.

  “Aren’t we happy?�
�� Kona prompted them with a motherly glare.

  “Oh, sure,” Sumatra said, returning Kona’s glare. “I’m as happy as a bumblebee in a blackberry blossom.”

  Sirocco eyed Sumatra with a competitive gleam in his eye.

  “Well, I’m as giddy as a tadpole who just sprouted legs,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah?” Sumatra challenged. “Then I’m as happy as a girl with a hundred ribbons in her hair.”

  “Okay, then,” Kona piped up. “I’m as sunny as a field full of sunflowers.”

  Brisa giggled. Her friends were hilarious!

  “I’m as bubbly as Brisa in a room full of mirrors,” Sumatra added with a grin.

  “Then I’m as happy,” Sirocco said with a laugh, “as a pig rolling around in rotten watermelon rinds.”

  Suddenly, Sumatra’s lip curled.

  “Yuck, Sirocco,” she scolded the colt. “That is disgusting!”

  Kona frowned along with Sumatra, while Sirocco’s laugh died abruptly.

  Oh no! Brisa thought. Just when things were lightening up—everyone’s getting cranky again!

  She had to do something. Anything!

  “Oooh! Look at that … um, caterpillar!” Brisa cried, pointing at a fat green bug that was chomping away at a nearby blackberry. “This patch is probably crawling with other hungry bugs, too. Maybe we should start picking blackberries again before they eat too many of them.”

  “Good point!” Sumatra said. She turned to the Wind Dancers’ berry bush. “Look out, buggies, here I come!”

  Sumatra plunged into the bush, knocking leaves in every direction.

  Brisa winced. Making the horses compete with insects didn’t seem like the best way to distract them from competing with each other. But at least it worked!

  For a moment, anyway. But as soon as Brisa went to pick up a load of berries from Kona, it became clear that her friends were still snippy.

  “Sumatra and Sirocco aren’t picking more berries than I am, are they?” Kona asked Brisa.

  “Um,” Brisa said, “would it matter if they were?”

  Kona didn’t seem to hear her. She was too busy peering through the bush’s leaves, trying to get a glimpse of the other horses.