By Zoe Anastasia
“Ah, so this is what that girl meant by ‘Wandering Library.’” I study the dark appaloosa—from the tome-shaped bags hanging from his sides to the book-thieving mud devouring his feet.
Rescuing a horse is one thing, but reading materials?
I stay far away from the thick goop. The earth still squishes beneath my feet. “I don’t understand how anyone could love fables so much that they’d drag them all over the countryside.”
My stable hand, Tate, leans precariously over the mud to snatch the nearest book. Its ragged turquoise cover hangs by a thread. “But Harvey, they can be useful.” He shoves the hardback into my hands before I can reject it. “Earl’s favorite pastime is reading.”
A handwritten note reads, “Earl’s Favorite Book.” And below that, the title: A Unicorn’s Journey of Self-Discovery.
“Oh, for the love of haylofts.” I hold the book as far away from myself as possible. “Who has time to write a thousand pages on unicorns?”
The Wandering Library scrutinizes me through one blue eye and one brown. Rather judgmental, if you ask me.
If Earl’s owner hadn’t been so vexed with the situation, I would’ve asked her to come and help Earl relax. By the time I left the stable, however, she’d been snoozing with her face in a book and her glasses askew.
I straighten my shoulders. “Tate, you got those wooden boards yet?”
“Yes, sir,” he sighs and brings two boards from our wagon. He positions them a few inches from Earl’s hooves. With the weight of encyclopedias, mystery novels, and ancient dust on his back, it’s a miracle the appaloosa hasn’t sunk deeper.
As I step onto the wooden planks, Earl Grey’s ears swivel back. His tail flicks. I try to stroke his soft muzzle, but the horse yanks his head away.
Tate smirks. “Would it really kill you to read? I bet it’d calm Earl.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. His owner thinks everyone likes books. Why not extend that to animals?”
I sling the rope around the steed’s belly and loosely tie it, then toss the rest back to Tate. Earl needs encouragement, but not in the form of fairy tales.
“We gotta get one foot out, buddy.”
With Tate gently tugging on the rope, I crouch beside Earl’s left hoof. If he can just plop it onto the makeshift bridge…
I tug on his foot. Earl snaps at my hat.
“Whoa!” I stumble backwards before he can chomp on my head. I tip to the side, gasping, and Tate yanks me back into place.
Earl’s an angry library.
I frown at the appaloosa. He snorts and tosses his mane.
“Maybe we should take the books off his back,” I say. “The less weight, the easier it’ll be to tug him out.”
Tate fiddles with his hands. “Or, there’s always unicorns…”
I release an exasperated sigh. I lift massive tomes from the bags and hand them to Tate.
“Wait.” The pile stacks up all the way to his chin. “This is too much!”
I add another book. “Put them on the wagon, then.”
He takes a step across the planks, wobbles, and tips. The book on top tumbles from his arms and lands in the mud with a splat!
I grimace and scoop it up. I wipe the mud from the leather as quickly as possible, but a brown splotch remains. “Um, we’ll discount the horse retrieval service as an apology.”
Tate frowns. “Unicorns, Harvey. The answer is unicorns.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Do you wanna read to him?”
Now Tate rolls his eyes. “I can’t read well, remember? Only the basics.”
That sounds suspiciously like an excuse.
Tate wobbles along the second plank and pauses by Earl. He pats the appaloosa’s neck. “It’ll make him happy. Doesn’t he look sad?” He exaggerates a frown. Annoyingly, the steed doesn’t snap at him.
I release a longwinded sigh. I suppose I’ll have to prove that horses don’t understand English.
I flip to page one. “Once upon a time, there was a unicorn named… Sir Sparklehooves. I’m sorry, that’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.” I purse my lips. “Sir Sparklehooves the Fifth of the Celestial Enclave.”
Earl sighs heavily. He nudges the book with his muzzle. Tate muffles a laugh.
I groan.
“Sir Sparklehooves protected his kingdom with magic,” I drawl. “The horn on his head could blast holes through any monster who terrorized the unicorns’ precious lands. But Sparklehooves also suffered from a horrifying ailment called self-doubt.”
Or perhaps he suffered from clichés?
Tate tugs on the rope, but Earl Grey still doesn’t budge.
“Try a more soothing voice,” he whispers. “That wasn’t comforting.”
“That’s hard to do while reading about unicorn wars.”
Nevertheless, I try to soften my voice as I read on. One page turns into two pages, then three and four. I slip into a rhythm as Sir Sparklehooves confronts his intergalactic enemies and recruits his own spies.
Earl Grey shifts in the mud, struggling to lift his hoof. I back up, continuing to read the story as Tate pulls on the rope.
“Everyone held their breath as the grizzled wizard inched toward the throne. ‘Sir Sparklehooves,’ he pronounced, ‘you are the chosen one.’”
Earl’s hoof breaks free.
Tate hauls the appaloosa from the muddy pit. I close the book with a flustered sigh.
Dare I say? That story was just getting interesting.
***
Earl clomps happily along the road as we near the lantern-lit stable.
His owner, Kytt, yawns and pushes her glasses back into place. Her eyes light up. “Harvey! You rescued Earl!”
She buries her face in his mud-speckled mane.
“It was no problem.” I rub the back of my neck. “But because you are the owner of a literate horse, I feel it is my responsibility to warn you about a danger much worse than mud.”
Kytt raises an eyebrow. I hand her the tome.
“With a book like this, Earl might decide to overthrow the world.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Awesome! Earl’s an angry library, indeed. More “Sir Sparklehooves” stories, please!
Hamlet: “The play’s the thing, wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king”
Kytt: “The book’s the thing, to set the appaloosa on sure footing”
Certainly a unique take on Kytt! I like the voices of the characters, and the cameo by Kytt. Fun story!
Oh my gosh, what a fun story! I loved this take on a mobile library!