Custom Nostalgic Legeica
The girl stuck her thumb into her mouth as she looked up at the Sister in front of her. It was a habit she'd developed long ago, something she did when feeling scared, like other kids clutched at bears or blankets. She hadn't had such an option, with no bears or blankets to her name, and she'd had to adapt the best she could.
Sure, things were different for her now. The church had given her a room to live in. It was true she had to share it with three other girls, but that was fine by her - it meant the church had also given her siblings, or the closest thing she thought she'd ever come. They gave her a bed, complete with blankets, and, on holidays, they were even sometimes able to provide her with toys people had donated, including bears, usually tattered from previous use, but nice just the same. The church did its best to give her the nicest childhood they could, despite caring for twenty-four other children of various ages and taking in more almost monthly.
But old habits die hard, and she needed the comfort of her thumb pushing into the inside of her cheek as she stared back at the woman who glared sternly down at her.
She took her thumb out of her mouth, but only for a moment, only to say, "It could happen." Then it was popped right back inside.
The girl was sure it could really happen. Surely a horse, even one as old as Rosary seemed to be, was capable of following someone. If they could do that, it was just a few more steps until they were following them right to their home. She didn't find it so unbelievable.
Sister Abigail seemed to, however. The aging woman stood a mere 5'4ft tall, but she was almost frightening with her hands on her hips, her lips pursed into a tight line, and her silvery gray eyes narrowed sharply as she stared down at the little girl. "I'm perfectly sure it could happen," she said primly, her chin tilting, so that she looked right down her nose. "What I'm having trouble accepting is that it did happen, and with you involved, no less."
Well, that was borderline offensive, and out came the thumb again. "What's so hard to believe about a horse following me home? It happened - and by total accident, too!"
"'Total accident', hmm?" Sister Abigail removed her hands from her hips, so that she could cross her arms over her chest. "Do you mean it's a 'total accident' the same way it was when you brought back that alley cat? And that mangy little dog? Is it a 'total accident' the same way it was when you ended up with that little rabbit?"
The girl pursed her lips, and her arms crossed over her own chest as she looked away from the Sister. She couldn't bring herself to give an answer, because, yes, it was like all of those times - times the Sister knew weren't exactly accidents at all.
She couldn't help it, though! It was just instinct that when she saw an animal, alone and seemingly helpless, she wanted to take it into her arms, bring it with her back to the place that had helped her when she'd been in so much need. The church and its members were kind to all sorts of people. An orphanage had been built for children, and the homeless and poor were welcome often for free meals and spare clothing whenever the church had supplies available.
It only made sense to the girl that they would be kind to animals, too.
Sister Abigail gave a little sigh, and she bent over, so that her height would be more even with the girl's. A sympathetic smile graced her thin lips as she reached a hand out, touching the girl's small shoulder. "It's wonderful that you're so compassionate to all of God's creatures, really it is, but... we just don't have the funds or the room to take in animals, when we already have so many little mouths to feed and bodies to house already." Then she stood up straight again, her smile faltering. "Dogs and cats are one thing. A horse is another thing entirely. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if we can ever..."
The girl refused to look at the Sister as she trailed off. She supposed a piece of her had known all along, from the moment she'd first decided to encourage the horse to follow her back to the church, that it would be difficult convincing anyone to let her stay. But the girl had still hoped it would be possible.
She glanced back at the horse. She stood there, chewing a stray straw of hay, her tail lazily and slowly swishing back and forth. Attention had been drawn to her, and now other children who'd been outside playing as the girl had walked up with the big creature in tow flocked around her, oohing and awing, reaching hesitant hands out to pet her. The air had filled with excited chatter, and overall the other children looked happier than the girl had probably ever seen them. It was saying a lot that they'd look happy at all, given that most of them were orphans and still trying to adjust to their new lives as such.
This was a fact Sister Abigail knew all too well. Over the years she had seen so many children come to the church. She'd watched them struggle to adjust, to move on, and helped them as best she could. It was a difficult, long process to get through, and she'd seen it happen so many times.
She had taken notice of the excitement, the sudden liveliness, as the kids rushed over to the horse. Many of them had never come into much contact with animals, especially one of this sort, and they all seemed so thrilled to be able to do so. It was as if a great stress was suddenly relieved, at least the slightest bit, all sorts of pressure taken off their little shoulders.
Sister Abigail sighed again, this time much louder, as if she were exhausted. She took another moment to glance at the horse, which was happily nuzzling the hand of one of the younger children. The little boy giggled almost uncontrollably in joy, everything else seemingly forgotten.
The woman turned, lifting her skirts away from the dirt as she headed for the steps that led into the old, elaborate building. She knew when she was beaten. "... I will see what I can do," she called to the girl, glancing back over her shoulder as she left her standing there.
The girl's eyes widened as she looked after the Sister. Every piece of her was filled with some combination of surprise and hope, and she couldn't resist the giant smile that spread over her lips, making them stretch nearly ear-to-ear. Surely if Sister Abigail could be swayed, others could be, too...
Days passed, and then weeks, and months, and years. But the horse never left.
Read more about the horse!
Story by Octavia
Profile by Peril
Art by dancingdingos
