Zally's Book by Jan Bozarth Page A

shouted to Imishi.
    â€œAre fine!” she yelled back, but I could see the pain on her face.
    When we reached the muddy path by Kir, the fairy girl’s weightless shoes barely left an imprint. A flat yellow worm clung to her calf and she shook it off. I was glad to have fairy boots protecting my feet and legs. Who knew what else lurked in the slime Imishi and I had just climbed out of?
    Kir stopped rearing. His flanks twitched and he shook his mane, but he stood still while Imishi and I climbed onto his back. It was clear that he wanted us to hurry.
    The moment we were seated, Kir took off. I leaned forward, twining my fingers in his mane, and closed my eyes to avoid getting mud and gnats in them. Imishi held on to me tightly. It seemed to take forever—or maybe it was only minutes—before we left the insect cloud behind. Finally Kir stepped onto the solid land on the other side of the swampy lake.
    The horse stopped and looked back at me, waiting for my direction. I untied the fairy scarf and took the map out of my bag. Although the bag was wet and muddy, my map was still dry.
More fairy magic
, I thought as I studied the map and looked around us for landmarks.
    â€œThere! That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I could tell Imishi was trying for a light tone, but her voice shook. “I bet we saved lots of time.”
    â€œI don’t know.” I rubbed my forehead with one hand, massaging it to try to ease the headache that had just blossomed, not even caring that my hand was covered with mud. “I have no idea where we are anymore.”

6

The Jungle
    Another thing people usually don’t tell you about traveling by horse: if you’re not used to it, you get sore. I mean
sore
. I mean really, really sore. You learn that there are muscles in your body that you’ve never used before. So there I was in the middle of Aventurine, tired, headachy, hungry, filthy, and sore in a million different places, with one companion who couldn’t talk and another who seemed to blame me for everything that went wrong. Now that we were no longer in an emergency, we had fallen into an uncomfortable silence. To top it all off, we were lost.
    I drooped over Kir’s neck and let my hair fall forward while a few tears coursed down my cheeks. One day. One measly day and I was ready to give up! I couldn’t believe I was that much of a wimp. I didn’toffer Kir any direction, but he started walking again, and I didn’t protest.
    I was grateful that Imishi stayed silent. I didn’t bother to look up while Kir plodded along, up and down low hills. The air cooled, and somewhere nearby birds were singing. I must have lost track of time. Kir finally came to a halt and stamped his feet. I looked up.
    The sun was setting. We were in a flat area dotted with pools of clear water that gave off a faint aquamarine glow in the fading sunlight. On the far side of the pools, a dense stand of trees formed a sheltering half circle. Low, thick grass covered the ground between and around the pools.
    An image rose in my mind: Kir resting and riderless. The image was clear, but with blurry edges, as if I were looking through a tunnel made of fog.
    â€œKir would like us to get off his back,” I said.
    I let Imishi dismount first, her feet touching the ground as lightly as a feather. My own dismount was more clumsy, because I was so stiff and sore.
    â€œHow do you know he wanted us to get off his back?” Imishi asked.
    â€œHe told me.” Picking up a new image from Kir, I removed the saddlebags and blanket. Kir shookhimself, whinnied, then walked over to a pool and began to drink.
    Imishi made a skeptical sound. “The horses of Kib Valley do not speak in words. I often understand what my cousin wants, but only because I have known him so long. Do you claim to understand Kir’s language?”
    â€œNot exactly.” Then I explained, as much as I could, about the emotions and images that I