CRACKED: An Anthology of Eggsellent Chicken Stories by J. Posthumus (read after txt) 📕

She would be easy to convince. He focused on implanting the idea that the two goons needed to know she was the boss. She lifted her horned head and her eyes narrowed as she watched the two force Santi against the posts.

She walked a few steps closer and stomped her foot. Santi focused a little more, and she pawed at the ground. And then she started running.

“Are his eyes greener?”

“Don’t be foolish.”

Santi barely kept the smile from his face. A nanny goat on a rampage could do a lot of damage. Before they could tie him to the posts, they went flying, one went one way and one went the other.

And the nanny rounded for a second go. They yelped and scrambled away. Adelmar bellowed that someone should catch the possessed creature.

Santi bolted across the courtyard, and he made it to the gate before anyone had looked away from the spectacle. The girl stood to the side, just behind the column, grinning at him as though she’d just gotten the best news.

Santi winked at the young woman and then disappeared over the fence.

Santi wandered the city. He crept from shade to shadow beneath the harvest moon, hunting for anything salvageable. When he was certain he wasn’t being followed, he climbed up the nearest lean-to shack and onto the rooftops, carefully picking his way back to their rented barn.

He dropped down in front of the building, frowning at the yellow glow that showed through the window. The creatures couldn’t light the lamp. Who had found their hideout? He tugged the rope latch and pressed the door open, the iron hinges creaking.

“I wondered how long it would take you.” It was the girl with long black hair. Adelmar’s daughter climbed to her feet, dusting hay from the seat of her pants, her face wreathed in smiles. “Frango was so worried. He thought you might have been eaten by my father. Or an owl.”

Perched on her arm, Frango tilted his head, his bright red comb falling over his lazy eye.

“People don’t talk to animals.” Santi frowned at the scene before him.

“Nonsense. My name is Rusha.” She held out her free hand.

He inched closer, his gaze darting from place to place in the barn, but he didn’t take her hand. Her presence had to be a lure. Adelmar had to be out there.

She lowered her hand. “It’s not a trap. I hate the way my father treats creatures and people.” Her expression twisted in disgust, and then she waved at the others. “Ask them.”

In the corner, Dog, the goat, chewed hay. Callie, the Calico cat, batted at a moth that danced in the air beside her. Callie had joined their little troupe two towns ago, and now the grocer’s fat cat lounged beside her. Nothing else amiss.

“How did you find this place?” Nobody had found their hideout yet. “I just came to get my chicken.” Maybe Dog could butt her through the door.

“I asked around.”

“Villagers lie.”

She gave him a look then. “People never realize what their creatures notice.” She grinned, then, her green eyes flashing in the light.

“Is your father here?”

“No, just me.” She lifted a basket onto the makeshift table that Santi had made from a throwaway shipping crate. She unloaded pottery dishes covered in cloths. She offered an apologetic smile to the animals that surrounded them. “I brought food. I didn’t know you’d have company.”

“What do you want?” There wasn’t a good reason for her to be there.

There was a catch. There always was.

Her mouth twisted as a dark expression passed over her face. She studied her toes. When she lifted her eyes, they glowed green. “I’m like you. I can talk to the animals, too.”

“That’s crazy.” Santi hoped she couldn’t see his pulse pounding in his temple.

She knew. Somehow, she knew.

“I saw what you did. With the goats. My father was terrified. He muttered about demons all day.” She giggled at that.

“I didn’t do that.” Santi drew back. The skill had driven him from his hometown. His daydreams made one too many plagues. When his mother figured it out, she’d sent him away, tears streaming down her face, convinced he’d been cursed for her sins. “How did you find me?”

“The mule at the end of the alley told me you were here.”

“That’s crazy. People don’t talk to animals.” Even Santi didn’t communicate in words with the animals, it was more like pictures, ideas, and feelings. He squinted at her. She couldn’t have magic. Could she?

“Let’s not pretend.” She put her hands on her hips.

Santi smirked at her. She thought she was going to boss him around. She had another think coming.

“I know you did,” Rusha said. “Frango says you argue over which came first, the egg or the hen. He told me your favorite meal, and Dog says you like her milk when she has it.”

Santi’s eyes bulged. He wasn’t the only one with it anymore. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve been looking for someone like you.”

Dog still consumed her portion of hay, bored with the human conversation. Frango jumped down from her arm and jogged away to peck at crickets trapped in the corner. They had been his only friends since he’d left home, gathering them one by one as he went.

“Why me?” He couldn’t think of a good reason why the daughter of a rich man would want someone like him.

“You have magic.” She winked at Frango and the lazy-eyed rooster winked back. “I have magic, too.”

“Magic isn’t real.”

She continued as though he hadn’t spoken at all. “It is, and we must learn.”

He shook his head. “Learn? Learn what? Who would teach us?” She was a lunatic. Like father, like daughter.

“We must learn all we can about using our powers. There’s someone out there that can help us.”

Santi studied the young woman. She had leaned forward, her gaze intense.

She was as serious as could be.

Odd Dog had a crush on a brown goat down the street, but it wasn’t the strangest thing the girl, Rusha, had