The Escape

  Still, despite her dam’s promise, the filly couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever see the open sky and a star like the one on her forehead. If only the boy would bring the water bucket more often, for they were all very thirsty.

  Then, like a small miracle, the little groom did come and pour a bit of water into the bucket, filling it hardly a quarter full. But that was enough. A crack had opened up in the deck, and reflected in that scant bit of water were two stars! One was the white swirl on the filly’s forehead, but the second danced like a silver splinter on the dark water.

  “Mamita!” the filly neighed softly.

  “What?”

  Estrella delicately lowered her tongue into the bucket and lapped just a little. The silver was still there. “Mamita! I am drinking a star!”

  Over the next few days, there was a phantom of a breeze, just a riffle of wind that licked the sails and then died away. Perlina could hear the crew swearing about something they called the doldrums. They cut the rations of grain and water again. The horses were not only thirsty now, but hungry as well. Their stomachs began to make loud rumbling noises and sometimes grating sounds as loud as the creaks of the ship as it lolled in this windless sea.

  The priest prayed to his God for wind. The Seeker prayed for gold. But Perlina wanted nothing except water for herself and the filly. Her milk was drying up and she feared that soon it would disappear. She hadn’t asked for a filly. She had thought she was too old to foal, but it had come. A little tawny miracle with a swirled star on her forehead, a black mane and tail, and bright stockings on her legs.

  Perlina caught the faintest stir of wind that had made the brigantine creak and one sail flap languidly. But it was a taunt — within seconds, it had died away again. Yet for those seconds, that teasing wind brought something with it, a scent from the long ago. The mare knew that scent. It was the wind grass. She had never smelled that grass before, nor had she grazed on it, but there was something sweet in the smell that stirred in some long-buried part of her, the part of her linked to an ancient herd grazing at the beginning of time. The mare’s nostrils flared and she tossed her mane. Perhaps we are not sailing away, she thought. We are coming home!

  Perlina felt as if she had just gulped an entire bucket of water. One ear twitched forward and the other pivoted to the side. She neighed happily and the other horses turned toward her.

  The Seeker’s stallion, Centello, as arrogant as his master, snorted. “Fool!” He was too stubborn to pay attention to anything except the commands of the Seeker.

  But Gordo, a dappled gray stallion, fixed steady brown eyes on her. “What?” he croaked. “What is it, Perl …” His tongue was so thick in his mouth, he could not complete her name.

  Perlina closed her eyes tight. She was seeing something, and the gray stallion sensed it. A landscape danced as if on the inside of her eyelids. There was a sea of grass blowing, and through this grass was a fleeting shape — that of a tiny horse. A horse that stood no bigger than a dog. But it was a horse. A perfect little horse.

  Yes, she thought, we are coming home!

  The other horses grew very still. They could tell the mare had felt something extraordinary. They dared not ask what, not yet. But a shiver ran through them, as if their deepest thirst were about to be slaked. There was something waiting for them, and only Perlina knew what. Freedom! A freedom like none of them had known for millions upon millions of years.

  The men’s whispers lay on the still air like the buzz of flies. Perlina heard her name swim up through the hushed voices many times and then the filly’s. She did not know what the sailors were speaking about. But she was nervous.

  She tried to keep the image of the tiny horse alive in her mind. She felt as if she had to guard it. This was her secret and it was a secret that would appall the men. But suddenly, the Seeker appeared. His helmet was cradled in his elbow and he went to the dark stallion’s sling to offer it to him. Perlina could smell the grain in the helmet, saved especially for Centello. The stallion was named for the jagged white marking that ran from his forehead to his muzzle like a bolt of lightning. He was always favored.

  The other horses turned their heads, and their nostrils began to quiver. But Perlina turned toward the ship’s hatch, still seeking out the other scent, the ancient one from the long ago. The scent of the tangy sweet grass, the scent of home, and the scent of freedom. Those three things braided together in her mind’s eye. She felt as if she were teetering on a terrible brink — a primordial dream that was about to be realized or destroyed.

  The grain in the Seeker’s helmet smelled slightly of mold, but the stallion continued to eat. Then he slid his huge dark eyes toward Perlina as if to say, See, I am the favored one. Perlina wanted to say, Favored for what? Old weeviled grain? She swatted her tail and turned her attention back to the wind grass, so sweet in her mind’s eye even though the breeze that brought it had died.

  She wondered if her filly was hungry. It had been nearly two days since the groom had filled their bucket. Perlina knew she could stand to go without food, but with her own milk drying up, could the filly get enough nourishment? Did Estrella look smaller? The lack of water and food seemed to have shrunk her. She was not the size of a meadow foal, and her skin looked loose, as if it weren’t quite part of her.

  Then it struck Perlina. Not only had the young groom failed to fill the bucket, but he had not even visited them to pet them, rub their ears, all day. He hardly ever let an hour pass without coming to their slings to check for abrasions from the canvas or to smooth liniment on the patches where their coats had been rubbed bare. Where was he? She turned around to look for him. He was crouched in a corner as the blacksmith spoke to him. Wet tracks ran down his face. It was not perspiration but two parallel streams. Tears. The boy was crying.

  “Pero ella casi no pesa nada,” the boy pleaded.

  She doesn’t weigh much? Perlina wondered. What is he talking about? The boy turned to look at the filly, and in that instant the image of the tiny horse faded from Perlina’s mind. The scent of the sweet grass was replaced with a rank odor. She knew she was about to lose everything — her foal was her dream, freedom. Perlina let loose a shrill squeal and then an ear-piercing scream.

  The filly had never seen her dam like this. She panicked and tried to buck in her sling.

  The stallion looked over toward them and nickered through his closed mouth. He was safe, of course. The Seeker had just proved it to him by giving him grain. But Perlina’s panic was becoming a fury.

  “¡Ella sabe! ¡Ella sabe!” She knows! She knows! The blacksmith growled in a low voice. “Es la más inteligente del grupo. She’s the smartest horse of them all. What a shame! What a shame! ¡Qué pena!”

  Seven sailors came down to the hold, carrying rope. Perlina squealed again and tried to buck out of her sling. She had heard rumors of echadas, or pitchings, and she knew exactly what was going to happen when she saw sailors wrapping the ropes onto the winches. Her eyes flashed to the muskets strapped to the sailors’ waists. She also knew what would happen if she tried to resist. The sailors would think nothing of shooting her right here, then butchering her and feeding on her flesh.

  “Horses are good swimmers,” the blacksmith said, trying to console the boy. “Land is not that far. Remember that island this morning? It’s a quarter league at the most. They could make it to shore. You’ll see.” He extended his hand and rubbed the boy’s dark hair. “Perlina and Jacinta —”

  “That’s not her name. Don’t call her that!” The boy’s eyes were smoldering.

  “Not her name?” The blacksmith opened his eyes with wide surprise. “What’s her name?”

  “Estrella — Estrella is her name!”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Her mama told me. It’s her secret name for the filly, the true name,” the boy insisted. He walked toward the terrified filly and began to scratch her ears. The filly and the boy locked eyes. He knows my name, the filly thought. He knows my t
rue name, the one my dam gave me. But what is all this talk about leagues? Why is Mamita screaming? Estrella tossed her head wildly. Long silvery ropes of saliva from her mouth whipped through the air, but the boy helped to calm her a bit.

  The hatches were opened. Estrella shut her eyes as a bolt of glaring sunlight fell into the hold. It was so bright she had to squint. The stallion Centello looked on calmly as the horses’ slings were tightened. Perlina dared not give the stallion the slightest glance. She had to focus on trying to calm down, for she knew that her one task now was to concentrate on the filly. With that first whiff of the sweet grass, Perlina had begun to see that they were heading to a more complicated world than she had ever imagined.

  They were going home — but it was a home from the long ago, the place of ancient winds that blew through the oldest grasses. The Seeker had his dreams of gold. But what the mare had was not a dream; it was a history that ran through her blood. She and her filly were about to come full circle. If they survived.

  Estrella heard a whinny and looked up to see the hooves of Gordo, the dapple gray stallion, floating above her on the winch. His shadow briefly slid across the patch of sunlight on the floorboards of the hold. Next she saw her dam’s legs above her. What was happening? Perlina’s parched voice nickered, “Don’t worry! Stay calm! I’ll wait for you.”

  Wait where? Estrella thought. None of it made any sense. Then she heard a splash and the scream of a horse.

  Estrella kicked out and tried to twist away, but soon her sling was lifted into the air. Her hooves pawed at nothingness, and below her came a mad yapping. The Seeker’s dogs! War dogs, mastiffs, and wolfhounds. Vicious creatures, her dam had told her, used for tracking and also attacking. The war dogs were running wildly on the deck, excited by the spectacle of the horses being lifted out of the hold. Their tongues hung out, as if to savor the sight. A mastiff barked and leapt up, trying to nip at Estrella’s legs as they hung over the deck. The boy slapped him and the dog skulked off, but Estrella whinnied in panic. Where was her dam? Estrella’s eyes swept the ship from bow to stern.

  Suddenly, the deck beneath her disappeared and she swung out over the water. Her legs churned in panic. There was a click as her sling released and it seemed as if her stomach dropped out of her. She spun through the air, everything flipped upside down. Which was the sky? Which was the water? The screams of panicked horses laced the air. Estrella felt a loud, cold smack and then a sucking feeling. Storms of white frothy bubbles swirled around her. She couldn’t see and began to open her mouth to scream for her dam, but water rushed in, gagging her. She couldn’t breathe. Which way to air? Which way was up?

  Her legs churned, but everything was a jumble. Sharp hooves lashed the water around her. She clamped her mouth shut tighter and pawed with her feet. Her muzzle broke through the surface and Estrella took in a wet suck of air. And miraculously, there was her dam. Right beside her!

  “Breathe!” her dam commanded. “Keep swimming. And keep your head high!” High and proud, Perlina wanted to add, for we are free! But the dam knew she must save her breath.

  They had broken through the surface. After the tumult of the plunge, the gasping for air, the boiling bubbles blinding them, the horses had emerged into a morning — a morning so full of the light they had not seen for so long that they had to squint. There was a peculiar stillness. The ship was not far away, but the vastness of this new world of light and water and sky had swallowed the creaks of the brigantine, the flap of the sails, the chatter of the crew. The sea was glossy and reflected the sky, the scudding clouds, and the scattered shards of sunlight. Estrella and her dam were floating in a crystalline world.

  Perlina nickered to remind Estrella to stay by her side.

  The mare swung her head and breathed in deeply. “This way. There’s an island ahead. Not far.”

  Yes, land is near, she thought. And beyond the island was more land. The scent of the sweet grass flooded her nostrils, and the form of the tiny horse returned to her mind’s eye. They would have to travel far, but she had no doubt they could reach him. They were strong and would become stronger every day. Horse strong, with no whips and no spurs to urge them on. “Try not to swallow the water.” Perlina turned to her filly. “It’s salty and will swell you.”

  Estrella clamped her mouth shut and lifted her head. She turned to look back. The ship and the clouds were perfectly reflected in the gleaming smoothness of the sea. She could even see the groom’s face, for the boy had hoisted himself high onto the bulwarks and was clinging to a shroud. “¡Hasta luego! ¡Buen viaje! Te amo, pequeña Estrella.” I love you, little star, he shouted. And the sound was sweet in the filly’s ears.

  The filly turned and lifted her head higher to better see the boy. Suddenly, his face contorted into a horrible mask. He opened his mouth wide, but no scream came out. Then one word tore through the placid blueness of the day. “¡Tiburón!”

  Something sliced through the sea toward them. It looked like one of the blades that the blacksmith used, but much bigger. It was coming straight at them and fast, knifing through the glossy sea.

  “Shark! Shark!” The sailors hung over the side of the rail screaming. The fat padre waved his hands, making a sign, and in his high shrill voice called out frantically to something in the sky above. “Oh, Señor, Dios todopoderoso, nuestro Redentor, debe ser nacido en un establo y acostó en un pesebre cerca de donde estaban los caballos. El nombre del hijo de tinta bendiga estos caballos.” But the filly could not understand a single word.

  She felt something move beneath her hooves and whipped her head down to see what was in the water beneath her. Something white seemed to swell toward her, so vast and so white that it blotted out the blue of the sea. It rose up, ghostly and unstoppable, the water churning, the reflections of the sky gyrating until the clouds were spinning. Then there was an immense mouth and two rows of teeth, huge teeth like white daggers.

  The horses squealed and bucked, as if trying to lift themselves out of the water. Estrella and her dam were a short distance from the others. The shark had caught sight of them — smaller, easier prey than the four horses swimming close together. He circled around and swam straight at them, almost slowly but inexorably. He was huge and Estrella could see his flat eyes with a dumb brutality as he brushed past her. He circled again, and then again, with each circle drawing closer. He rolled over on his side as if eyeing them.

  Perlina and Estrella swam desperately toward the other horses, but there was no escape. The shark swept in and bumped Estrella. Perlina gave a frantic shriek and wheeled about in the water, forcing her bulk between the shark and her foal. Estrella screamed in horror, and the shark rose up and caught her dam in his teeth. This cannot be! she thought as her dam began to sink.

  “No!” she screamed. Her dam’s head tilted, blood foamed from her mouth, and the sea turned a deep red around her. But a light in Perlina’s dark eyes flashed and a scent came to the filly — not of blood but of the sweet green of the wind grass. The image in front of Estrella’s eyes shifted from death to the imprint of a tiny fleet creature running across a windswept plain. But then the image blinked away and the horror filled her again.

  “No! No! No!” Estrella screamed again and again. She dove under the water to try and follow her dam, who was sinking fast.

  The shark turned and knifed toward the filly. She bared her teeth and tried to shriek at him, but no sound came out. Estrella gathered all her strength and twisted around to kick out with her back legs, her most powerful legs. She connected with the shark’s broad snout. There was a raspy sensation, as if she had rubbed against something rough. The shark seemed to flinch and his eyes rolled back. But she could not have hurt him. Her most powerful kick was still so light. Perhaps it was like when her dam had bruised a flank in the sling one night. Perlina had told her filly that the flank was a horse’s most tender part. Perhaps the nose of this monster was tender, too.

  The shark turned and swam toward two other horses, both mares. O
ne was panicking and swallowing water; the other was trying to push her companion ahead. Then the shark swung around and dove for the quickly sinking body of Perlina. The filly was paralyzed in the water. The large dapple gray stallion pushed her with his head. “Go! Swim!” he shouted.

  Estrella was almost numb as she swam away, feeling closer to her dam than ever before. It was as if she were filled with the mare, with her memory, her knowledge. She kept her eyes on the haunches of the large stallion swimming ahead of her. A colt swam beside him, mewling. She could hear his anguished whinnies. But Estrella kept silent. It was as if something had been sealed up inside of her. Her cries, her grief. In that profound internal silence, one image eclipsed everything. The flash in her dam’s eyes, a single flash.

  The light of it had not been blinding, but it illuminated the deepest recesses of Estrella’s being. As if a long-forgotten history had began to unfurl in some part of the filly’s mind. There was the now. There was the future. And there was the long ago. For Estrella, all three were woven into one seamless cloth. The filly knew somewhere deep inside her that she was the keeper of this precious cloth.

  She looked around. The horses were confused, swimming backward and forward in a panic. Estrella raised her head again and sniffed the air. She would find the scent of the sweet grass again and it would lead her. Her dam was gone, her heart was breaking, and yet something of her dam was still with her. Something was driving her forward. She began swimming faster, passing the stallion. Mamita, she thought. I never ran, I never bucked. You were so worried, but look! I am swimming, swimming fast.