Centaur Rising Read Online Free PDF Page B

made comforting noises. Quickly, I snapped on her lead. Then I rubbed her neck. “I know you like your own stall. But I promise, you’ll like the new stall even more.”
    She didn’t look convinced. In a horse that could mean that the whites of her eyes showed or that her ears were lying flat. Or a dozen other little things. Hera looked longingly at the window, opening her mouth and grinding her teeth, but I held the lead tightly to keep her from gnawing on the frame.
    As we headed out of the stall, she whickered and the other horses answered her. But even if she wasn’t convinced that everything was all right, she trusted me.
    â€œI think we’re okay,” I called back in a loud whisper to Mom who was in the next stall, where Bor was stabled.
    I spoke too soon.
    I could see little runnels of fear, like worms under Hera’s skin, skimming along her back and sides as she tried to look over her shoulder toward Agora’s stall.
    Without warning, she gave a loud whinny and planted all four feet on the ground, refusing to go a step farther. I tugged and tugged on the lead. It was like trying to move a mountain.
    The barn erupted in whinnies and snorts and odd coughing sounds as the horses reacted to Hera’s call.
    Mom stuck her head out of Bor’s stall and stared at me. “Not all right, then?”
    I shrugged.
    â€œGuess they know something’s wrong.”
    â€œThere’s nothing wrong !” I said. Magic wasn’t wrong. It was just … strange. But horses don’t like strange. A lot of people don’t like it either.
    That was when I remembered the Perseids, the light and the power flowing over the fence, the mares in the Suss field startled and kicking up their heels, making this same kind of snorting fuss. Remembering the scene was like a lightbulb clicking on over my head.
    â€œI know how it happened!” I called to Mom.
    Something in my voice made Hera look up. Her eyes and ears suddenly seemed a lot more natural. So I gave her a small tug, and then a harder one, clicked my tongue against the top of my mouth, and at last she started walking again.
    I led her down the corridor, out the side door, then in again to the other corridor in the front of the barn, and from there into her new stall. I placed two fingers on the number on the stall door.
    â€œSee—Number One. That’s you.”
    She stuck her muzzle on the number. I couldn’t tell whether it was because she understood what I was saying or because she wanted to taste the salt my fingers had left there.
    We went in.
    When I unsnapped the lead and came back out into the corridor alone, Mom was already hauling Bor along. “You know how what happened?”
    â€œHow Agora got pregnant. I bet it was at the Perseids shower last summer. When we were lying on the blanket, I saw something strange.”
    â€œStranger than falling stars?” Mom stopped in front of me, Bor’s huge head nuzzling her ear.
    â€œI saw a light leaping the fence and then Agora ran to greet it and…”
    â€œYou,” Mom said, pushing her finger in my chest, “ you were fast asleep during the whole light show.”
    â€œWas not.”
    â€œWas,” she said, and Bor nodded his head in punctuation. “I finally had to wake you up so we could go back inside.” She pushed past me and led Bor into his stall.
    I knew I hadn’t been asleep. That couldn’t be true. I vividly remembered what I’d seen. Even wrote about it in my journal the next day. I don’t often write in my journal. Only if something interesting’s happened. Like a spelling bee. Or a light show in the sky.
    Or … a centaur.
    Tonight’s journal , I thought, is going to be a doozy.
    â€œThen what’s your explanation?” I called after her, sassier than I meant to, but not by much.
    She stuck her head out of Bor’s new stall. “I don’t have one. Yet. When I do,