An Old Tale in a New World

by Impossible Numbers

Day 99

Surrounding the orange orchard’s hills were tree stumps, and beyond them were the unfamiliar sounds of the rainforest. Distant mountains shimmered beyond the permanent grey. It was nothing like the lovely sunshine, dog’s tooth grass, and corn oaks of home.

It was raining, but then it always seemed to rain here, the weather punching the foal’s skull until she was being stung by a swarm of drops. Orange trees bloomed into life around her. She shifted her jaws around the handle and dragged the rake over the fields, scraping up all the leaves and petals that had fallen. Next to the green chaos, it was a reassuring sight. No one ventured into the rainforest if they could take the cleared alleys through it.

They had not seen the “cat-monkeys” for a long time. Most said it was Rego who had kept them away, but most would say anything that made Rego sound like a hero.

Still, better her than those things. Naranja Pétalo shuddered at the mere thought. There were always stories of foals disappearing, snatched by purple hands. She listened to stories.

She watched the phoenix as it circled overhead. It had been doing so for a while, which meant warm weather was due. In this place, though, that was not so much news as the default, but it was nice to see even the wildlife keeping the old traditions alive.

She glanced back at the house. There wasn’t much to say about it. It was a hovel, but it was their hovel.

The phoenix soared over it. Faint flames and afterimages drifted like ghosts in its wake. It landed on the fence beside her, making the poles shudder where its weight hit, and slid its wings along its flaming feathers.

“Sincabeza!” Naranja Pétalo cried, spitting out the rake as she did so. She closed her eyes. The phoenix’s beak opened wide.

Around her, through her, and in her deepest heart, the music flowed. Notes soared high over the peaks and dived down to the dells, whooshing and slicing alongside the melody like mountains and rivers over a vast country. She thought of baking pies, of choirs piercing the ceiling, and of warm hooves cupping her to a chest with a beating heart.

“Your mother took your head away,” she chanted under her breath, “but your sister hid your bones. The Enchantress brought you back to life, to claim your stake some day.”

How many times she had heard the tale! It had involved callous stepmothers and bizarre requests and lots and lots of blood, which was why she treasured it so much. Some things stuck with you from childhood.

A screech marked the end of the song, and the phoenix preened its forewings. As if waiting for this moment, the beaming foal lifted a hoof dramatically.

“Wait, Sincabeza! Don’t go! Wait here! I get for you!”

She galloped back indoors, and, jumping over the steps to the veranda, almost hit her father in the chest.

“What the – querido, get back here! You’re not done raking those leaves!”

Nothing but an orange blur passed him, but as he stepped aside, he counted under his breath. At the “ten”, he stuck out a hoof and she bounced off and back into the doorway. The horseshoes dropped from her mouth.

“But papá, it’s Sincabeza! He needs the shoes, or he won’t sing!”

Papá rolled his eyes. “Those stories… I regret ever telling them to you! They are just foalish fairy tales. You can’t just call any old phoenix Sincabeza!”

“But I’m sure it’s him this time!”

“Dios mío! Don’t give that bird your shoes. The Enchantress is not real. That phoenix is certainly not going to pay tribute to her, you understand?”

Naranja Pétalo glared at him until his eyes watered and he tried staring at something less fierce, like the battery of raindrops.

“Well, not those horseshoes, at least,” he said. “Those ones are your best. Go give him your pink ones. They’re still good, and he’ll still sing beautifully.”

The timber creaked in protest at the flurry of hooves inside the house. Papá sauntered down the steps, and counted up to fifteen before stepping aside to let the blur shoot past. He shook his head at the earth.

Naranja Pétalo almost tripped on her way to the fence. To her alarm, the phoenix spread its wings and took off with a shriek.

“No, Sincabeza! These shoes are a gift. You need them. The Enchantress will love them!”

A shadow whooshed through the grey overhead.

“Sincabeza?”

Papá yelled in a voice much higher than normal, and was suddenly silenced beneath a storm of barking. She spun round in time to see him seized and dragged under the earth. Howls and sniggers were cut off by a silence. Naranja Pétalo bit the rake handle and charged, heart pounding furiously.

An orange struck her scalp, and she winced and flailed at a flurry of fallen leaves.

Two clawed feet smashed into the earth behind her. Something yanked the rake out of her mouth and almost threw her over the trees after it. When she turned around, she barely had time to scream before wings enveloped her. She was still screaming as her insides seem to drop suddenly, and she had a brief glimpse of the trees falling away beneath the flapping wings before strong hands forced a slimy gel over her face.

Her eyes began to lose focus. Her nose recognized the stench of the somnolencia juice before her mind carried her off into darkness.