Meeting MayMeeting May

I let out a curious snort as the girl entered the barn. She heard me and turned toward my stall. Now I could see that she was perhaps half grown, with dark hair and lively brown eyes in a pale face.

“Oh, hello,” she said, reaching up to pat my nose. “Aren’t you a pretty horse!”

I lowered my head so she could reach, sniffing at her as she stroked my face and neck. Her scent was pleasant and clean, though I caught a faint whiff of that mystery smell clinging to her clothes. She moved on to pat Coal and the sheep as well, and even cooed over the sleepy hens on their roosts. But then she returned to me.

I was glad. I’d been watching her as she explored the barn, liking the smell and sound of her and her gentle energy. There was something unusual about her movement that caught my eye, though she was so quick and unpredictable that I couldn’t figure out what had attracted my attention. She smiled at me as I lowered my head to her again.

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” she murmured as she ran her slim fingers through my forelock. I felt her fingers probing my forehead. She parted my forelock and peered up at my face. “Oh, look at this—you’re not black all over like I thought! See?” she said. “You have a little white marking right here. It looks like a crescent moon.” A smile broke across her face. “I knew you were special! You’re not just like all the other big black horses around these parts. You’re unique! I think you need a special name—how about Luna? Do you like that, girl? Hmm?”

I didn’t understand all of what she said. But the word Luna lingered in my ear like the music of Gerrit’s humming, and I nodded with pleasure at the sound of it.

That made the girl laugh. “You do like it!” she exclaimed. “Well, good. Then it’s nice to meet you, Luna. My name is May. My family just arrived here with our traveling circus.”

Coal was watching from his stall. He let out a snort. What is the young human doing here? he asked me.

I don’t know, I said. But I like her.

Hmm. After watching for a moment more, the other horse returned his attention to his hay.

May rubbed my nose, still chattering cheerfully. “I love traveling around everywhere,” she said, her fingers working their way over the itchy spots on my poll and behind my ears. “It’s fun to explore different cities and villages and see new things. I especially like seeing all the different animals in the different towns and countries. Of course, the horses are always my favorite!”

She took her hands away, and for a moment I was disappointed. Then I saw that she was fiddling with the latch on my stall door. Soon she swung it open, and I was able to lower my head farther toward her. When I did so, she laughed with delight and hugged my head, which was nearly as long as her entire torso.

“Oh, Luna, I’m glad I chose this direction to explore!” she exclaimed. “You’re sweet! But here—hasn’t anyone combed out your mane lately?”

She went to work with her fingers. Like all horses of my type, I had a thick, long mane hanging nearly to my shoulders. Gerrit or Kai occasionally ran a comb through it, but they weren’t nearly as gentle as May’s careful fingers as she teased out each knot and tangle.

And still she talked, telling me how beautiful I was and promising to visit every night while the circus was in town. “My family doesn’t know I sneak away at night,” she confided, leaning closer to whisper into my ear. “But I know you won’t tell them, Luna.” She giggled. Then she fell silent, and when she finally spoke again, her voice was sad. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not as if I’m needed much during the day, so nobody even notices if I sleep a little later than everyone else.” She sighed and was quiet for another long moment. I turned my head—careful not to bump into her—and nudged at her shoulder, wishing she didn’t look so sad.

That made her laugh again. She hugged me, pressing her small head against my larger one.

“Oh, Luna,” she said. “Never mind all that. I’d better get back before I’m missed. But I’ll visit you again—I promise!”

Over the next several nights, May returned to see me. I looked forward to her arrival, listening for the sound of her footsteps and the sight of her small figure slipping through the barn door.

On her second visit, May brought a comb. She used it to work out the last of the tangles in my mane and tail. When that was finished, she went to work on the long black feathers on my legs, combing out the burrs and chunks of mud until the hair lay smooth and silky over my hooves.

The morning after that visit, Gerrit glanced down as he led me out of my stall. His eyebrows rose, and he pursed his lips and let out a soft hmmph.

“What is it, Gerrit?” Kai asked, glancing over from outside Coal’s stall.

“Nothing, lad.” Gerrit winked at me and smiled. “Let’s get these beasts outside.”

That night, May arrived a little later than usual. “We had our first show tonight, Luna,” she told me. “Father and Mother and the others were pleased with how many people came.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “And my sister Minerva had a new costume—she looked so beautiful standing on the back of the horses as they cantered around the ring….”

She continued to chatter as she quickly combed my mane and feathers. Then she stepped out of my stall and looked around the barn.

“I have an idea,” she whispered. She grabbed my halter from the hook near the door. I lowered my head toward it, as I always did for the men. May slipped it on, then attached a lead rope. “Come on, girl,” she said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I was surprised—Gerrit rarely took me from my stall after dark unless it was to pull him to town for some late errand or social call. But I stepped out obediently after May as I’d been taught to do since I was a foal.

She led me to the door and out into the moonlit farmyard. There she paused, grabbing a stout wooden staff leaning against the door frame. As we started across the yard, she held the staff in her free hand, using it to balance herself. Now I realized why her movement had caught my eye the first night. Out here in the open, without walls or stall doors to hold on to, she walked with a limp. It reminded me of one of the dogs on my birth farm, who’d been stepped on by a naughty colt and could never move the same way afterward.

“You’ll have to walk slowly, Luna,” May told me. “You see, I was born with a twisted foot, and that’s why I need this cane.” She sighed. “It’s also why my family won’t let me perform in the circus,” she added, her voice sad now. “They keep me out of the spotlight and instead have me take tickets and do other boring things like that, while my sister and brothers get to perform.” She clenched her fist so tightly on the lead rope that I felt her tension streaming through the soft cotton. “I know I could be a trick rider like Minerva if only they’d let me try! But they won’t—they won’t even let me ride anymore, ever since Uncle Claude caught me riding on my own last year.”

Sensing her distress, I came to a halt and snuffled at her shoulder. She turned toward me, and in the moonlight I saw tears glistening in her eyes.

“Oh, Luna,” she said. “Will things ever change for me? Will they ever let me do something useful instead of being forced to sit in the background and watch? I don’t think I can stand it much longer if they don’t. In fact…”

She hesitated, looking this way and that as if expecting to be interrupted. But the farmyard was quiet, with only a tawny owl perched on a branch nearby to witness our walk. May took a deep breath, leaning closer.

“If things don’t change, I’m going to run away,” she whispered. “I’ll slip out at night, just as I’ve been doing, and disappear in some foreign town or city where they can never find me.”

I didn’t really understand what she was saying. But I could tell that whatever it was, it caused her great distress. So I snuffled at her again, wishing there was a way to make her feel better. She smiled and flung her arms around me.

“Oh, Luna,” she murmured. “I’m so glad I met you.”

The next couple of nights went much the same. May took me for walks around the farm, telling me about her plans for the future. On the third night, she didn’t talk as much and seemed distracted, staring into the night sky as I grazed. Later, she leaned on the door after returning me to my stall.

“We pack up and leave after tomorrow night’s show, Luna,” she blurted out. “And I’ve made a decision.”

Sensing a new kind of mood in her, I lifted my head from my hay, which I’d started to nibble. May was staring at me with fire in her eyes.

“Things will never change unless I change them,” she told me. “And I don’t want to leave you. That’s why I’ve decided to run away now—and stay here with you.”