Some 400 years later
Outskirts of Paris, France 1482
I awoke from my slumber to the sound of crackling fire and thuds. I lifted my head to see the gypsies begin to stir, the women making a quick breakfast and the men packing their wagons. While the older children helped with the cargo and cleaning up camp, the younger ones sat with their mothers, some still wiping the sleep from their eyes. Light was present in the sky, but dawn was still a good hour away.. Before the sun would appear on the horizon, we would be long gone and on our way to the festival in the center of Paris.
"Good morning, Ani," a young girl's voice called.
I looked to the wagon that I was resting beside and saw one of my two caretakers hopping out of the wagon, biting into a bright red apple.
Just like her name suggests, Tsura was like the light of dawn, even on a cloudy day. She always seemed to have a smile on her face, which I quickly learned was contagious and often made the other gypsies we traveled with smile as well. Tsura was a sweet, innocent 12-year-old girl with slightly tanned skin, almond-colored eyes, and hair of oak-brown that curled at the tips and reached just past her shoulder blades. She possessed the gentlest touch and exotic dancing skills she had inherited from her mother.
I whinnied a small greeting and got to my feet, nuzzling the child lightly against her cheek, careful not to push her over.
Tsura laughed the most childish laugh as she stroked my cheeks back. When she backed away, she took one more bite of her breakfast, then offered me the rest of the luscious fruit, for which I greatly accepted.
"Tsura; hurry up and help me finish clearing camp."
Said girl and I both turned to see my other caretaker and Tsura's older brother. Mircea had a good-sized chest of polished birch wood on his shoulder as he eyed his sister with a disgruntled look.
To say Mircea was unkind would be a total lie, for he did have a sweet side that he would only show when alone with Tsura and I. The 18-year-old was of great height, inherited from his father. However, like his sister, his oak-brown hair and almond eyes he received from his mother. Although he possessed incredible strength, Mircea preferred to play music while his sister danced to it.
Tsura always told me that her brother just acted tough so his pride wouldn't suffer, but we both knew that it was more for the sake of our positions and safety in the gypsy band. The two children had lost their parents in a flood a week before I had come across the gypsies a year prior, so being in a community where they can trust others was vital.
I had stumbled upon the children by chance. It was a cold fall afternoon and I was roaming the forest for fresh water. The land had suffered nearly a week of nonstop rain and I had gotten tired of murky puddles. The river had been filled with mud and debris, so I tried inland to try and find more drinkable water. The sight of two humans immediately caught my attention, even if seeing them trying to push their wagon out of a ditch wasn't noticeable enough as it was.
Let me explain. You see, I learned on that I wasn't a mortal horse, for I had stayed young as my past animal companions grew old and died around me. When it would become too much, I would try and end my life and join them, but any attempt I made was proven in vain and I would just wake up completely healed. The first few hundred years, I had developed a deep dislike of humans, particularly men. They had often been the cause of my friends' deaths if age didn't catch up to them first and often would try and capture me. However, as the decades passed, I started to see the good in humans, and the innocence of children.
If I had seen Tsura and Mircea 200 years before, I would have walked away without a second thought, but that hadn't been the case. I felt a connection with the two gypsy kids; they didn't have anyone to look out for them, just like me. They had been abandoned and left to fend for themselves, a characteristic of humans I found horrific. No one deserved that.
So, I climbed down the hill and approached the children. Mircea immediately went on edge, seeing a possible wild animal so close. Tsura, on the other hoof, took a quick liking to me. I helped pull the cart out of the ditch, but didn’t stick around. I kept my distance, but continued to watch over them for the next several days.
However, when I began to see that the children were being robbed, I left the security of the shows and officially became a member of Tsura and Mircea’s family. During the day, I pulled their small mobile home as we traveled across Europe. At night, I would watch over the young gypsies and their valuables. I guess you could say I became a sort of guard dog.
The thieves always came late at night, when everyone was asleep. They thought it was easy pickings and a horse would just be a bonus, but men have proven that they always underestimate us beings of nature. A whinny of alarm at first either sent the thieves packing or awaken the entire camp, but when that didn’t work, a few good chomps and kick got the message through. A month following my arrival, no thief came near our cart again and the band of gypsies came to respect us.
“Alright, I’m coming.” Tsura stroked my cheek one more time, then skipped away to help her brother, humming as she did so.
As I watched my caretakers, I caught sight of a familiar young man that was not much older than Mircea. Loiza, as he was called, was helping his father load their wagon, an irritated look on his face.
You see, Loiza and his family had just recently joined our clan, having lost their previous one in a massacre. The previous night, I had caught Lioza trying to steal Tsura’s sun amulet she inherited from her mother. My whinny instantly awoke the camp and Loiza’s father gave his son a good beating after apologizing to my family and offering us a small bag of apples, one of which I could still taste on my tongue.
Loiza caught my eye and scowled, muttering a few words, “Demon horse” being perhaps the only clean words that he chose. I could only smile inside.
XXXXX
The festival was in full-swing by late morning. The courtyard was crowded with visitors and party-goers, most wearing masks and costumes. Children ran between the adults, laughing and playing with toys and eating different foods they had obtained. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
In the weeks prior to what the humans called “The Feast of Fools,” Tsura had been working on something special. When we arrived in the city to set up, she revealed an assortment of beads and fake gems she had collected. She braided them into my mane and tail, and tied strings of bells around my feet.
It took a little persuading, but Mircea eventually gave in to his sister’s pleas and rode on my back while he played his instruments during the event. He was unbalanced on my back at first, but he eventually managed to steady himself and even began to enjoy himself, playing his ocarina in tune with Tsura’s dancing and my bells.
Despite Tsura only being a child, men still tried to grab her at times, but Mircea and I managed to keep them at bay while still entertaining the crowd. There was one time, however, when both Mircea and I were cut off from Tsura and the group of old men began to make their move. Mircea was about to leap off my back to save his sister, but before he could, a young woman of semi-dark skin and beautiful black hair swept Tsura off her feet. The men suddenly backed away, and I looked down to see a small, gray goat butting his head against their legs with extreme force.
When the goat’s eyes met mine, I bowed my head in thanks. He nodded and gave a call of acknowledgement before jumping onto the stage with the woman and Tsura. He pranced around the two, causing the bell around his neck to jingle.
Mircea eventually relaxed and continued with his playing, while I followed suit, keeping a closer eye on Tsura, who laughed and danced her heart out.
Not much longer after that, the five of us – Mircea, Tsura, the woman, her goat, and myself- managed to sneak away for a few minutes while the Master of Ceremonies, a strange jester whose name escapes me, kept the crowd occupied.
“You are lucky to have such a protective horse like yours,” the woman stated. Placing a hand on her chest, she added “My name is Esmeralda, and this is my friend, Djali.” She indicated to the goat at her feet.
I bowed my head once more to the goat Djali. ”I go by Ani. Pleasure to meet you.”
“As it is you,” Djali replied.
“Thank you for looking out for my sister,” Mircea stated. “My name is Mircea, and this is Tsura.”
“This is our first festival in the city without our parents,” Tsura put in. “They died in a flood two springs ago.”
Esmeralda’s face saddened. “I’m sorry to hear that, little one. I lost my parents at a young age too.”
“But you’ve got Djali, just like we got Ani.” Tsura stroked my neck, twirling her fingers in my thick, sun-kissed black winter coat.
The young woman’s gorgeous green eyes lit up at the sentence. “You are right. Djali is my guardian as Ani is yours. They look out for us and are there when we need them.”
At that moment, a young gypsy boy poked his head around the crates we were hiding behind. “Esmeralda, Clopin is calling for you.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in a moment,” Esmeralda replied. When the lad was gone, she continued. “Trust in them, and they will trust you. Farewell, children.” She ruffled Tsura’s hair and stroked my nose before rushing back into the chaos of the festival, Djali right behind her.
I watched them go, thinking to myself of how the world needed more kind-hearted people like Esmeralda.