Page 12 of The Thief

Tak led me to a magnificent snow-white mare. When she saw us approaching, she pawed the ground with her hoof and snorted.

He held out his hands and cooed, “There’s my pretty girl.” He stroked her muzzle and let her smell him before kissing the bridge of her nose. She whinnied and nodded her head.

“I know you missed me,” he said, picking up a brush from the grass and brushing her coat. “This is your new home now.” Tak began speaking to her in his native tongue, and she nudged him affectionately.

I kept back, realizing how easily a large animal could trample me. “She’s not afraid of wolves?”

“My tribe raises them around wolves. It’s instinctual for horses to fear predators, but her line with my people is ancient. Her grandmother was my first horse, and that makes her special. She still fears predators but not the ones she knows. Let her smell you.”

I cautiously petted her nose.

The horse snorted and nodded her head.

“I’ll introduce your wolves to her one at a time but not now. She needs to settle into her new home.” Tak raised his voice to the group. “I don’t want anyone shifting around her until then. You hear me?”

Everyone agreed.

I stroked her pretty mane. “What’s her name?”

“Luna.”

“That’s sweet. Is that Native?”

He stopped brushing her. “No. Luna is Latin for ‘the moon.’ My tribe is old, and we’ve had many horses. The good names get repeated or are similar to other names, so when we started learning new languages, we used those words for variety.” He patted her a few times on the neck. “Isn’t that right, Luna?”

Gripping her lead rope, he led her past the well toward the stable behind it. The barn and stable were to the left but not right next to each other since Tak thought that might be a safety hazard. The well was also in that direction but closer to the house.

Hope reclined in the grass. “I never thought I’d be jealous over a horse.”

While adjusting his round sunglasses, Virgil rose from his lawn chair. “Then make him jealous. Get yourself a stallion.”

She smiled up at him. “I already have one.”

“Touché.”

She and Melody giggled. I envied their sisterly relationship. Have I ever been that close to anyone? My head hurt the more I thought about my solitary past.

Virgil strolled over to one of the oak trees near the field and sat on a thick limb that hovered above the ground. He swung his bare feet, palms planted on the rough bark. With his back to us, he belted out the opening lyrics to “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

From his lawn chair, Krys swiveled his head around to look while the rest of us watched the changing colors in the sky. Occasionally the setting sun would top off low clouds with pink, purple, and orange hues. Especially during storm season.

Chills swept down my arms from Virgil’s angelic voice and the haunting way he sang the song. Music had that effect on me. I had no memories surrounding familiar songs—the words and melodies simply existed in my head without any context.

Deciding to skip the sunset show, I hiked up the porch steps and went inside.

“Mercy?” Joy called out from behind me.

I painted a smile on my face before turning around. “What’s up?”

“Congratulations on your job, honey.” She gave me a warm hug, then backed away. “You must be so excited. It feels good to earn your keep, and I know you’ll be a smash.”

“Aw, thanks.”

Joy was the embodiment of feminine energy. Her soft blond curls had a sheen to them, and though she wore loose blouses, it was obvious she was endowed. Beyond her physical appearance, Joy’s nurturing spirit made me feel looked after. If she went to the kitchen, she always asked if I wanted anything. And sometimes, without me even asking, she would knock on my bedroom door and offer a cup of cocoa. She had class, like an old starlet from a bygone era.

Joy glanced at my attire. “Salem and I received our belongings today. I hoard clothes like a pack rat and have more than I’ll ever need. Would you like new work outfits so you’re not wearing the same thing every day?”

“Do you think they’ll fit?” I couldn’t help but stare at her ample chest. “They’re not the outfits you wore onstage, are they?”

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