A few hours later, after Kona, Brisa, and Sirocco woke from their naps, they stumbled out of their sleeping stalls. They stretched and yawned their way into the kitchen.
“I don’t know about you two,” Kona said, running a hoof through her tousled mane, “but that was the best nap I ever had.”
“I had the loveliest dream,” Brisa replied, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “We found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. It was so pretty.”
“Gold, huh?” Sirocco said, smacking his lips. “That makes me think of honey! I think a little post-nap snack is in order!”
But when the horses arrived in the kitchen, Sumatra was standing between them and their feed buckets. Her eyes glinted with excitement and her back hooves tapped impatiently.
“You’re finally up!” she said to her friends. “I hope you had a good rest. You’re going to need it!”
“For making a honey run?” Sirocco said hopefully.
“For finding out what our talents are!” Sumatra declared. “I told you I’d take care of everything, and I have. You just need to come with me. Um, now!”
“Now?” Brisa squeaked. “There’s not even time to fix my hair?”
“Or get a snack?” Sirocco complained. “Where are we going in such a hurry?”
“You’ll see,” Sumatra said with a gleam in her eyes.
It was afternoon by the time Sumatra led Kona, Sirocco, and Brisa on a secret flight out of the apple tree house and across the dandelion meadow. They flew into the woods until they were in the forest. Finally, Sumatra headed for a dirt clearing in the center of some tall trees.
“Follow me,” she said with excitement in her voice. She dove down to the clearing.
“This,” Sumatra announced as she landed, “will be our stage!”
Then she pointed with her nose into the dusky air above them. “Up there are our spotlights,” she said. “It gets dark really early in the forest.”
There were fireflies bobbing in the air. The little bugs lit up together, casting a beam of light onto the Wind Dancers.
“Oh!” Kona neighed. As she landed on the clearing-turned-stage, along with Brisa, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Those are bright!”
“Well, they have to be,” Sumatra said. “The spotlights have to light up the stars.”
“What do you mean?” Sirocco asked. He’d landed on the stage, as well. He glanced upward. “The stars are way up in the sky. And I can’t see them, anyway. There are too many tree branches in the way.”
“No, Sirocco!” Sumatra explained with excitement. “We’re the stars!”
She bowed proudly to her friends with a wave of her front hoof.
“Or rather,” she added, “we’re going to be stars, once we’ve finished our auditions.”
“Auditions?” Kona said. She opened her eyes and squinted through the spotlights at Sumatra. “What do you mean?”
“We’ll each do a performance,” Sumatra said matter-of-factly. “And then the rest of us will judge our talents. When we figure out what we’re good at—you know, dancing, or acting, or whatever—I can start planning our talent show.”
“What?!” Sirocco balked.
Kona was alarmed, too.
“We have to perform…” she said, looking a little pale behind her violet coat.
“… right this very minute?” Brisa added, trembling.
“… without any preparation?” Sirocco finished.
“Yeah!” Sumatra said with a gleeful smile. “I promised you an adventure, didn’t I? What’s more adventurous than a spontaneous performance? C’mon, it’ll be fun!”
“Oooh,” Sirocco groaned. He clutched at his belly.
“Oh, are you still hungry, Sirocco?” Brisa asked.
“Not anymore,” Sirocco said. “I think my butterflies have jumped from my magic halo right into my belly!”
“That’s called nerves, Sirocco,” Sumatra said with a grin. “But don’t worry. Nerves keep you on your toes and can actually make you perform better.”
“I should be brilliant, then,” Kona said, sticking out her tongue.
Sumatra laughed. Then she added, “The best way to get your hooves wet is to jump right in. Why don’t you start, Sirocco?”
“Start what?” Sirocco said, with panic in his voice. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Explore your talents!” Sumatra suggested dramatically. “Do whatever moves you. Sing. Dance. Do some stand-up!”
“I am standing up,” Sirocco responded indignantly. He pointed with his nose at his hooves, which were planted firmly in the dirt of the stage.
“Hee, hee!” Sumatra said. “See? That’s funny! Why don’t you tell some more jokes?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirocco protested. “I didn’t tell a joke in the first place.”
“Oh, I guess you don’t know about standup,” Sumatra explained. “You see, it’s a kind of comedy.”
“Comedy?” Sirocco said, wrinkling his nose at the unfamiliar word. “I thought you said to tell jokes!”
“That’s what comedy is, telling jokes—oh, never mind!” Sumatra said. “I’ll tell you what,” she added bossily, “since I’m the director, I’ll decide what you should do. Sirocco—sing!”
Sirocco obeyed by crossing his front hooves and taking a deep breath.
“The sun’ll come out,” he yowled, “TOMOR-ROOOOW!”
“Eeek!” Sumatra whispered to herself. Sirocco was screeching the high notes and growling the low ones. There was really not a thing nice Sumatra could say about his song. So, of course, she said nothing at all.
Nothing except, “Okay, I think that’s enough … Brisa, you’re next! Why don’t you enter from stage right?”
“Okay,” Brisa said brightly. She rose into the air and flew to the left side of the clearing.
“No, no,” Sumatra corrected her. “Stage right means to your right.”
“Oh!” Brisa said with a giggle. She turned her back to Sumatra and wiggled her right front hoof. Then she turned back around and said, “Well, here I am! Stage right!”
“No, not that way!” Sumatra protested. Then she shook her head. “Oh, never mind—forget right and left. Just fly downstage so you’re closer to the audience.”
“Downstage,” Brisa said, thinking hard. “Okay. Here goes.”
And she flew down, down, down until she’d landed on the ground. The dirty ground.
“Oh, no!” Brisa cried. “I’ve gotten mud on my lovely hooves! Before I can continue with this audition, I need to get to hair and makeup.”
Sumatra tried hard not to roll her eyes. Instead, she called out, “Next!”
But Sumatra was disappointed. So far, both Sirocco and Brisa had not shown a glimmer of talent.
But now it’s Kona’s turn, Sumatra thought to herself. And Kona’s good at everything.
Kona herself didn’t look so sure. She stepped forward, looking serious. Her front legs were stiff and her head was thrust out at an awkward angle.
“Hey Diddle, Diddle,” she announced. “By Mother Goose.”
“Oh, you’re reciting a poem,” Sumatra said eagerly. “How impressive!”
“‘Hey diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle,’” Kona recited, “‘the horse jumped over the moon.’”
“The horse?” Sumatra said, cringing. “Um, are you sure that’s right?”
“The cow, I mean!” Kona corrected herself. “‘The cow jumped over the moon. The little hog laughed…’ Or wait—was it a dog? Or a frog?”
“Why not just try the next line,” Sumatra suggested gently to her dizzy friend.
Kona nodded.
But when she opened her mouth, no sound came out—other than a weak squeak.
Kona had forgotten her lines.
Sumatra bit her lip and looked at Sirocco helplessly.
“I’ll say it for you, Sumatra,” Sirocco offered. Then he turned to Kona and yelled, “NEXT!”
Sumatra laughed a bit nervously.
“I guess that’s me,” she said.
While Kona slunk to the sidelines, Sumatra took a deep breath. She stepped onto the stage. She felt poised. Graceful. Talented.
I just hope Kona, Sirocco, and Brisa don’t feel bad when they compare their auditions with mine, Sumatra thought to herself.
Then she began to sing.
“The hilllllls are alive, with the sound of muuuuuu-siiiiic…”
As she sang, she twirled—around and around and around.
Twirling’s always a show-stopper, she thought to herself confidently.
Finally, Sumatra finished her act with a knock-knock joke—a real knee-slapper about an orange and a banana.
Then she took a deep bow and waited for the applause.
But, surprisingly, all she heard was silence!
And maybe a groan or two.
“Owwwwww!” Sirocco moaned, shaking his head hard. “My ears hurt!”
Meanwhile, Brisa turned to Kona.
“I don’t get that joke,” she whispered—loudly. “‘Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?’ What does that mean?”
Sumatra frowned in confusion.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “You didn’t like my number?”
Sirocco only shook his sore ears some more. Meanwhile, Kona gulped and hung her tongue out of her mouth.
“All that twirling made me a little dizzy,” she rasped. “I think I might throw up.”
Sumatra felt a cold chill come over her.
“You hated it,” she said to her friends. “You hated my performance!”
“Well…” Brisa’s eyes darted back and forth, and she looked uncomfortable.
Kona made a woozy sound.
And Sirocco yelled, “What?! I can’t hear you over the ringing in my ears.”
“I can’t believe it,” Sumatra wailed. “I’ve got no talent!”
