Chapter Text
"Sit down, now, Juan. Dora, por favor, I am begging you, stop touching your brother, he is about to explode." Lucía widened her eyes dramatically and made an exaggerated popping motion with her mouth and hands, causing giggles to ripple out through the circle of children gathered around her and aptly defusing the situation between the young brother and sister. "Tula, give Diego some space. Gabriela, I am your Tía and I am not afraid to tell your mother how you are behaving right now. Much better, thank you. Now, are we ready?"
"Sí!" The chorus of childish voices as they settled onto the worn rug made Lucía smile. They could all use a sense of normalcy after whatever had happened at the Madrigal's house this evening. She didn't know exactly what had happened, but it was clear Mariano's proposal to Isabela had not gone as planned. Anyone with half their senses working could see the storm clouds centralized around the house and sense the tension in the air. Alma, the Madrigal matriarch, was now marching around town, attempting to reassure everyone the magic was strong and that there was nothing to fear. Lucía had offered to host an impromptu story session for the neighborhood children while some of the other villagers attempted to help deal with the fallout of the evening – or, more likely, continued to spread gossip about what had occurred tonight.
"Excelente. Now, we agree – no interruptions? No complaining about touching or breathing or asking about what happens next? And – no spoiling the story for those who may not have heard it?" She raised her eyebrows and directed a meaningful look toward her daughter Josefina, who raised her own eyebrows innocently at her Mamá's expression. "Perfecto."
Lucía brought forth one of her most treasured possessions – a large, hand-bound leather book of fairy tales and nursery rhymes, compiled and printed by her father, complete with painstakingly beautiful illustrations by her late husband. It was not only a favorite of hers, but of the children who regularly came to the story times she held in her father's book and print shop. The shop was the Encanto's main source of paper, ink, and book-binding supplies and also served as a makeshift library for the village.
The book was so large she had to prop it on one knee to hold it fully open, allowing the fifteen or so children who had gathered for story time full view of the pictures. "Tonight," she began, "we shall be reading La Pobre Viejecita , by Rafael Pombo. Illustrations in this book are by Alejandro Moreno."
"That's my papá," whispered Josefina proudly to the boy sitting next to her, who rolled his eyes good-naturedly and shushed her.
"Once upon a time, there was an old lady
with nothing to eat but meat, fruits, sweets,
cakes, eggs, bread, and fish.
She drank broth, chocolate,
milk, wine, tea, and coffee,
and the poor woman could not find
what to eat or what to drink!"
Lucía exaggerated her facial expressions and voice as she continued to read the classic tale of the poor little old woman who was surrounded by riches but could find nothing to be happy with. The giggles and smiles of the children listening warmed her heart and only served to spur her silliness further. She had only made it halfway through the story when one of the villagers burst through the doors.
"It's – it's Isabela!" He panted. Lucía froze. There were other people in the village with the name Isabela, but only one had the power to make grown men burst through bookshop doors. "She's – it's – her power! Something strange is happening! Come see!"
The shop was now filled with excited exclamations from the children, as the man – Lucía thought his name may be Oscar, or Osvaldo – something with an 'O', anyway - ran back out the door to tell the others on the street what was happening. The children rose and gathered around the shop's small windows, doing their best to see outside. Lucía frowned, goosebumps breaking out along her neck and arms. She exchanged a concerned glance with her Papá, nestled behind stacks of papers at his desk in the front corner of the shop. Something had been off the past few days with the Madrigal's magic, and it made them both uneasy. Everyone trusted and relied on the Madrigals, they were a good family – but magic? The Madrigals, they trusted. The magic – that was a little more suspect. Magic was a thing for fairytales and bedtime stories, and it always made her feel a strange mix of awe, wonder, and apprehension to see it in action in real life. Her Papá rose from his desk, adjusted his glasses, and strode to the door, sticking his head outside before nodding to her.
"It's alright, I think." he said, smiling. "We can venture into the street to see."
The children pushed out the door in one excited heap, Lucía and her Papá's remonstrations to stay close only vaguely heard and obeyed – not that Lucía could blame them once she saw for herself what was going on.
Strange, beautiful, vibrant plant life poked through the cracks of the cobblestone street. Hues and shapes of flowers and cacti and succulents she'd never seen in the village before burst along walls and - in the distance, on the hill above the village – explosions of color filled the air above the Casa Madrigal. And – was that – Isabela and – and Mirabel using some of the larger than life plants as a trampoline? Lucía held her hand up to shield her eyes from the setting sun, peering at the fantastical picture before her. No, no – it was a vine, they were swinging - but -
"Mamá, lift me up! Can I see?! I want to see!" Josefina begged, tugging on her sleeve. She was a healthy child (thanks in part to Julieta's cooking), but small for her six years, and Lucía was thankful she could still lift her with ease. Josefina latched onto her, eyes wide with delight at the sights around her.
"There's a purple one, Mamá! And a round one! And orange! What is that up there? What are those colors?! Mamá, do you think Isabela will swing us like that? I want to swing like that!"
Lucía laughed, thoroughly enjoying Josefina's enthusiasm and keeping a watchful eye on the children roaming the street, climbing as high as they could and standing on their tip-toes to view the house on the hill where all the fantastic magic was coming from.
"Diego, cariñito, don't touch that. We don't know what it does."
Her nephew sheepishly pulled back his hand from an intriguing bulbous plant that looked like a cross between a cactus and a venus fly trap.
The group watched the display for a few more moments before Isabela and Mirabel disappeared within the Casita's walls. Hopefully, whatever problem had been going on tonight with the Madrigal family would be resolved now. Lucía sighed, pressing her cheek to her daughter's hair before setting her down. She turned to herd the small group of children back into the shop to finish the story before sending them home for the evening. Just as her hand reached the doorknob of the shop, the ground shifted roughly beneath her feet.
"Mamá?" Josefina, who had been looking for her cousins in the small crowd, suddenly appeared right at her side, apprehension on her face. "What - "
Oh, no.
Lucía's heart lurched in fear as a cracking sound tore through the air and the ground shifted again, large cracks appearing in the middle of the street and smaller fissures appearing in some of the walls of the buildings.
They all led back to the Casa Madrigal.
Oh, no no no.
Papá - Lucía's mouth moved, but no sound came out. She licked her lips nervously and tried again, frantically scanning the alarmed crowd for her father. Ah – there –
"Pa!" She cried, and their eyes met above the children's heads. "Help me with-"
Another rumble, enlarging the cracks and this time – this time –
"Cuidado!" Papá shouted, as a handful of roof tiles slipped off of the shop and dropped to the street below. Lucía jerked Josefina behind her, and looked to the fields behind their small street. The corn was waist high, and it was the safest place she could think of to wait out whatever this was, whatever was happening – there were no trees or buildings to fall on them there. She met her father's eyes and he nodded, having followed her glance and train of thought.
"All right, niños, listen up!" He boomed, his normally quiet voice commanding in the commotion of the street. "We are going to the corn fields, Señora Moreno will lead the way, follow Lucía, that's right. Diego – come to Abuelo, it will be all right. Now – vamanos!"
He picked up his crying grandson and Lucía sprang into action, doing her best to quickly shepherd the children down the street and into the cornfields. Several neighbors had obviously had the same idea, and they all half-ran to the fields for protection. It only took a minute, a small tremor moving beneath their feet in the meantime, and once everyone was in the cornfield, Lucía spent several moments counting and re-counting heads, attempting to tune out the wailing of Diego, the soft, muffled sounds of crying, and the hushed, worried conversation of her neighbors. All the children were accounted for, and she sighed in relief.
Suddenly, a tremor greater than any of those previous shook the ground. Lucía crouched down, pulling as many children as she could tightly to her, muttering nonsense reassurances and attempting to keep them all relatively upright.
"Dios mío," Lucía whispered, watching in horror as the mountains that encircled the Encanto began to visibly crack and shift as well. Tears sprang to her eyes in confusion and shock – what was happening -
And just as suddenly as it began, it ended.
Sniffles and exclamations of surprise filled the air around her, and everyone hesitated, unsure if there would be another earthquake.
"The casita! The casita! Oh my gosh, look at their house!" One of the children wailed, and Lucía followed his pointing finger to the hill.
Moments ago, Isabela and Mirabel were literally making magic bloom from every crack and crevice in the town, seemingly flying above the casita, and now – now –
Fog and dust swirled around the heap of rubble that was once the Casa Madrigal.
She held her breath, silently screaming a prayer that – that maybe, Pepa would clear the mist obstructing their vision, would shoo away the clouds thickening in the sky, would somehow prolong the coming sunset long enough to see that they were okay - that everyone would be okay.
Nothing happened.
"Mamá?" Whispered Josefina, clinging tightly to her hand. Large tears slid down her cheeks. "Mamá, what happened?"
Lucía swallowed the lump in her throat, taking a few moments to collect her thoughts. She shook her head, attempting to clear her mind and slow her racing heart.
Taking one long breath in and releasing it slowly, she looked down at her daughter. "I – I don't know. I don't know what happened, mi querida, but we must wait and make sure the earthquake is done before we find out."
Lucía spent the majority of the next fifteen minutes making sure all the children in her care were reunited with the families that happened to run into the field with them, numbly offering gentle encouragements and acknowledging their bravery. When she was done, there were only five children left – two from other areas of the village, and her three youngest nieces and nephews – Gabriela, Emilia, and Diego – along with her own daughter. Her sister, Sofia, and brother in law, Lorenzo, lived on the opposite side of the village, near the main road and nearest to the Casa Madrigal. They ran the stables, housing and caring for most of the village's horses and donkeys. Her other nephews, Miguel and Mateo, were older and helped with the work, and would probably be on their way to collect their siblings soon, if –
Lucía shivered and shook the thought away before it fully formed. Miguel and Mateo would normally have come to collect their siblings, but they probably had work to do checking on the animals in the fields and stables, now. She should take the rest of the children home. Enough dust had cleared, now, that they could see people – the Madrigals – moving around the rubble on the hill; it was impossible to tell whom, but there were survivors.
Hopefully, the entire family would be all right.
Lucía took Diego from her father, holding her four-year-old nephew close to her chest, and he immediately buried his face in her shoulder. His tears had run out ten minutes ago, but he still hiccuped pitifully ever now and then, whining for his mama. She shifted his weight onto one arm, and with her free one, took the hand of another girl beside her.
"Come, children," she said, in her most soothing voice. "We'll take you home. I'm sure your parents are worried and will want to see you."
They walked together, the little group, through the cornfield and dusky, tired shadows of the street. She paused at the entrance to their home, which was attached to the book shop by a small courtyard, to leave Josefina with Papá.
"No!" Josefina sobbed, holding tightly to her mama and burying her face in her skirts. "I don't want to go with Abuelo!"
Lucía's heart squeezed painfully in her chest, and tears threatened her eyes once again. "Josefina, mija, please – look at me."
She waited until her daughter looked up at her, and the sight of her hazel eyes, wide and glossy with unshed tears, took her breath away. She cupped her daughter's face with her free hand.
"Mija, it will be all right. I have to take your cousins home, now, and Abuelo will take you into the house. It – it might a bit messy, now, after the earthquake, and you know Abuelo…" she smirked half-heartedly over her daughter's head at her father – "he always needs a bit of help cleaning up. Can you help him, Josefina?"
Josefina's lower lip shot out and trembled for a moment, but she inhaled sharply and nodded. "Gracias, mi querida." Josefina took her Abuelo's hand and disappeared into the courtyard.
Saying a small prayer under her breath for the safety of her family, friends, and neighbors, she began the trek through the village. Almost everyone was outside, talking about what had happened and attempting to guess at why. Surprisingly, aside from various shingles on the ground and the large cracks in the street, there did not seem to be any major damage to the buildings of the Encanto. Lucía was grateful for that.
She made short work of returning two of the children to their families, and was left with only her nieces and nephew. Their home was closest to the Casa Madrigal, and they took the main road to get there. The village was strangely subdued, the normal lively conversations quiet and hushed, and no music played. Dust still hung in the air, and when they rounded a corner, her niece Gabriela suddenly stopped short.
"Oh, tía, look!" She whispered mournfully.
Lucía stood on her tiptoes, attempting to look over the crowd toward the hill, assuming that Gabi's heart-wrenching reaction was referring to the casita. But Gabi released her hold on her tía's hand and stepped toward the building beside them, hand outstretched to the wall.
"Gabi-" she warned, afraid a loose tile or plaster would fall, but –
It was the murales of the Madrigals.
Dust dulled the once vibrant colors. Cracks split its surface, and a large chunk of the mural had fallen off the building. Julieta and her children were almost entirely missing – only a part of Luisa's barbell and a tiny portion of Mirabel's skirt remained - and Bruno and Alma had large chunks missing as well.
"Oh," Lucía gasped, and this time, the pinprick of tears filling her eyes was enough to cause all her unshed tears to spill over. She shifted Diego in her arms – he was almost asleep, now – and quickly wiped the tears away with her free hand. She took a shaky breath in, attempting not to break down there in the street, when they were almost back – almost to her sister's home.
It's just a painting. It's just - just - his murales. Just…Alejandro's…last…
It wasn't so much the fact the murales was gone, it was the fact that people would talk to her about it. They would shake their heads and cluck their tongues in pity, and she would have to help restore it, and she would have to smile and pretend –
Lucía bit the inside of her cheek to stop that train of thought. "Oh," She said again. "It's – it's too bad, isn't it? I'm – that's – uh- " she inhaled sharply through her nose, and turning away from the broken art.
"It's really sad, Tía," Emilia said, her small voice matter of fact.
Lucía looked down at her, thankful for her niece's level head. "Yes, Emi. It is. We'll – we'll have to - fix it, later." She looked up at the hill, and her heart sank at the scene. The Madrigals were drifting restlessly around the remnants of the casita, and Padre Tomás, the local priest, was speaking with a distraught Alma. The sight of the destruction was disheartening, but also grounded her to the present. She turned back to look at her nieces. "There are more important things to fix first."
She took Gabi's hand again, making sure Gabi was holding tightly to Emilia's, before they finished the rest of the short journey back to her sister's house.
"They're gone! Every single one of them, except for Itziar, living up to her name, the lazy old rock. Every horse, every donkey, even the chickens! Running off, following after those animals escaping the casita, spooked – it will take days, weeks to find them all, if we even do." Sofia slumped onto the table, head in her hands. "If…if Luisa and Antonio still had their powers…"
Lucía gave her sister's shoulder a gentle but firm squeeze. "It would make it easier, but it is still possible to find them without their powers. And according to Lorenzo, Padre Tomás said they don't."
Sofia whimpered. "How will we get by without them?"
"The donkeys, or the Madrigals?" Lucía asked flatly, only half-joking. In her opinion, her brother in law and sister had let Luisa do far too much donkey-carrying. If they had taught their youngest children to close the barn door more often, Luisa's workload would have been cut in half.
"The donkeys, Lucía," Sofia protested weakly. She looked down at the cup of coffee on the table before her and wrapped her hands around it, absorbing its warmth. "I know…I know we have all relied on the Madrigals, perhaps too much, and we'll – we'll be all right, and return the favor – but - there are some…some things I'm concerned about." She lowered her voice. Although the youngest children had been put to bed, she still didn't want to risk disturbing them. Her two eldest, Mateo and Miguel, were still helping their padre in their search for the missing animals. "We don't have a town doctor, Luci. Julieta has been our doctor for more than twenty years, and the surgeon only comes a few times a year, unless we send for him. If someone is hurt, how will we send for him without horses or donkeys?"
Lucía sat down beside her at the kitchen table, nursing her own cup of coffee. She had delivered her nieces and nephews, and then made the short trek back across town to tuck her daughter into bed. Afterwards, Papá had noticed her restlessness and told her to go back to Sofia's to see if there was any news or any way she could help. On her way back to her sister's, the town was agitated and unusually active for the late hour, clearing the most dangerous debris from the streets and discussing the Madrigal's lost powers.
If she was being honest, Lucía was concerned about the doctor as well. She knew they would manage just fine without most of the powers – the Madrigals were always eager to help and were the cornerstone of the community, but the majority of their powers were a helpful convenience, not a necessity. She knew most of her sister's panic stemmed directly from the lost animals, but her sister's worry about the doctor was the most pressing concern on her mind as well.
She squeezed her sister's arm again, attempting to comfort her. "It will be all right, Sofia. We will make things right. The rest of your family is already out looking for the animals. Even if you don't find them all, we will find some. And, like you said – we still have Itzi, for emergency purposes."
Sofia snorted, and smiled. "You're right, Luci. But you'd better hope it's not an actual emergency when you turn to Itzi."
Lucía tossed her braid behind her shoulder and lifted her chin. "Of course I am right, Sofi. I'm the oldest. I'm always right," she teased.
In another room, Diego began whimpering in his sleep. Both women sighed.
"I'm sorry, Sofi. He was pretty scared."
Sofia nodded. "I know. We were all scared. Pobrecito bebé." She stood up to go comfort her son, picking up her cup.
"No, no, I'll get it. I'll clean up the coffee things. I think we've done all we can for tonight. You go see to Diego, I'll do the dishes, and then I'll check on the barn before I leave? I can tidy up a bit in there before I go, make sure that there are some stalls available for anyone the boys find."
Sofia's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Ah, thank you, thank you Luci!" She pulled her sister close for a quick hug. "You are the best big sister. Just a quick tidy, mind you – and then go home and get some sleep, okay?"
"Sí, sí, just a quick tidy, and then I'll go," Lucía agreed.
Lucía stood inside the barn and surveyed the scene before her, hands on her hips. The building seemed to be in sturdy enough condition – it was just bad luck that the doors had slipped open in the earthquake. While there was one unfortunate pile of tangled riding tack against the back corner where a section of shelves had collapsed, leaving blankets and reigns and halters in one large heap, the lamps Lucía had lit revealed that the stalls were sturdy and relatively clean.
True to her sister's word, there was Itziar in the center of the barn, completely unconcerned with the open barn doors, lazily munching on a bag of grain that had fallen and been torn open in the other animals' panic and escape. She was not that old, more middle-aged, and a pretty red dunn mare.
She was just unbelievably stubborn, according to Sofia.
Lucía preferred the terms 'reliable' and 'patient'. She was steady as a rock, and also immovable as one. Itzi irritated Sofia, but Lucía loved her.
"Right," she said, winding her braid into a bun on the back of her head, and fixing it in place with a decorative comb from her skirt pockets. "First, Itzi my friend, we need to get you away from those grains."
Itzi ignored her and kept eating. Lucía sighed, and went to untangle a halter from the pile.
Twenty minutes later, Lucía had successfully separated Itzi from the grain and swept it into a barrel. She wiped her forehead and sighed, surveying the scene before her. "Right, right. Itzi, check - grain, check. Stalls are good, I just need to lay a bit of fresh straw, put some fresh water in the trough…ugh, I should probably try to untangle a few more halters, just in case they need them tonight…"
The sudden clatter of falling tools outside the barn interrupted her train of thought and made Lucía jump. Turning to the open doors, she peered into the darkness. The box of horseshoes and the bucket of nails that usually sat on the workbench outside had spilled onto the ground, and the large pitchfork she'd planned on using to move the straw was laying beside them. Cautiously, she grabbed the lantern hanging on the wall and peeped around the door. She let out a breath when she didn't see anything and turned back to the barn - and almost dropped the lantern.
A man in dark clothing, the hood of a ruana casting shadows over his face, stood beside her.
"Ah!" She exclaimed, startled, backing into the door, holding the lantern in front of her as though it were some sort of weapon.
"Ah!" He shrieked, jumping backward almost as far as she had, cringing and holding his hands in front of him in surrender.
She lowered the lantern, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"I mean – uh - " the man fumbled for a moment, and then straightened again, his hands on his hips, his shoulders wide, voice deeper and ringing with confidence – though his face was still hidden by the hood of his ruana. "I require your fastest steed."
Lucía raised an eyebrow. "…Excuse me?"
"Uh - a horse! I require your finest, fastest horse. Señora."
"Ooooookay." She said slowly, taking a step toward him. He took a step back, almost tripped, and then seemed to think better of keeping his hands on his hips and nervously brushed out his ruana. "Who are you?"
He straightened again, drawing himself up to his full height – which really, was not much taller than her. And she was pretty short. Much shorter than Sofia. "I am Hernando!"
She didn't recognize him from town, but at least he didn't seem to be some maniac set on attacking her.
"Uh…the horse?" He asked. It came out a bit higher pitched, and he cleared his throat and tried again, his voice deeper this time. "The horse?"
Lucía had to cough slightly to hide the laugh that escaped at that, the stress of the day and the ridiculousness of this display beginning to be more than she could hide behind a polite smile. "Sorry – um, I'm sorry sir. Unfortunately all of our – steeds – escaped during the earthquake, when the Casa Madrigal fell. We only have one mare left, and she is not for rent tonight. We may need her in case of emergency…" her voice trailed off. "Plus my sister might kill me if I give her last good horse away to a stranger, even if she is her least favorite," she muttered under her breath.
She forced a polite smile onto her face once again, ready to end this strange conversation and return to her tasks so she could go home. "Good night."
She waited for him to turn away, but instead, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He shifted anxiously on his feet and lifted his head, rubbing the back of his neck. In doing so, his hood shifted slightly, away from his face. Lucía held her lantern up, just a bit higher - her eyes widened -
"Uh – look, uh – Señora. Please. I really, really need that horse. It's -"
"Bruno?!" She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise.
"Uh…no, no…no! I don't – I mean-" he scrambled to pull the hood back over his face. "Who's Bruno?" He asked with half-hearted swagger.
After an awkward pause with no response, he sighed and pulled the hood from his face, revealing dark, unkempt curls, stubbled cheeks, and the most mournful, sleep-deprived eyes she had ever seen on a human being before. He was ten years older, but it was definitely him. She'd spent enough time assisting Alejandro with the murales that she would recognize any part of the Madrigal family, anywhere.
"Bruno?!" She repeated again, her voice getting louder and more shrill with each word. "Bruno Madrigal?!"
"Shhhh shhh shhh shush!" His eyes darted around frantically, holding his hands up to placate her. "Don't scream. Please don't scream. I've had a very – very trying day and I really don't need to deal with the whole 'mob of pitchforks and torches' thing right now."
She frowned. That wasn't what –
She eyed the pitchfork on the ground by her feet and surreptitiously kicked it away, attempting to prove she was not the pitchfork-wielding, man-chasing type of woman. Unfortunately, all she succeeded in doing was making more noise.
"Sorry, sorry!" She cringed, and looked to her sister's house. There was no light or movement in the windows. They both breathed a sigh of relief.
"Where have you been?" She whispered loudly.
"Uh – around."
"Around? Around where?"
"Heh." The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a half-smile, half-grimace. "It's – it's kind of a long story. A long, personal story."
She stared at him.
He stared at her.
"…and I'm, y'know, more of a…private kind of person, so…"
Her eyes darted in the direction of what used to be the Madrigal home and back to him, and his face fell.
He looked – so utterly defeated, his head down, scrunching the hem of his ruana in his fists, as if expecting to be scolded and blamed for everything that had happened tonight. It reminded her of the way her nephew Miguel used to look when he was feeling particularly guilty or ashamed.
She lowered her lantern and stepped toward him, suddenly feeling the need to clarify her reaction. "Bru – uh, Señor Madrigal-"
"Uh, just Bruno. Bruno's fine."
"Right. Um. Bruno - " she bit her lip, trying to work out what she wanted to say.
"Sorry. I just have no idea who you are."
"Pfft." She couldn't help it. He said it so flatly, so matter-of-factly, so unapologetically – it made her laugh. In fact, this whole experience was so surreal, she wouldn't be surprised if she was dreaming. She might wake up in an hour with Itzi nibbling on her hair.
"Shhhh!" He shushed again, moving anxiously from foot to foot. "See, uh - no one else knows I'm here, and I'd like to keep it that way. For now."
"Sorry! Sorry. Bruno Madrigal." She nodded, attempting an introduction. Or re-introduction. Whatever this was. "I am Lucía Moreno-Hernandez. You may call me Lucía. We – hmmm. Well, we've met, but it's been - a very long time." She held out her empty hand.
"Uh – well – my – my hands are a little – sweaty, you know, with all this-" he gestured vaguely " - going on." She only raised an eyebrow and extended her hand a bit farther, and he looked between it and her face suspiciously before quickly reaching out, shaking once, and then tucking his hands beneath his arms, crossed across his chest.
He was right. His hands were clammy.
"I'm sorry, Bruno," she continued softly. "I'm not – I just – didn't expect to see you. I was surprised. I don't – I don't think - "
He sighed and straightened then, resigned. "It's okay. I know what everyone thinks – or what they will think. 'Bruno came back and the house fell apart. It's all his fault.' But it – it's not true and I don't care. I just – I really need that horse." He looked at her pleadingly.
She swallowed, and the silence stretched between them for a moment. "Are you running away again?" She asked quietly.
His head snapped up, his brows drawn together. "What? Am I – no! I never – I mean, I am not running away. Again. Definitely not running away." He frowned and stepped forward, gazing earnestly into her face. "It's Mirabel. They can't find her."
Her mouth dropped open in horror.
"No! Not like – she's okay, I mean – physically, she's okay. Mentally and emotionally? Phew, that's a whole other – uh, I mean – everyone is okay. The family. Everyone made it out. But Mirabel – she and – and her abuela- uh, argued. She's missing, and they can't find her, and I have to bring her home, I can't let her - "
He looked up and Lucía was gone. His face fell. He closed his eyes, and his hands went to his head, pulling his hair. "No, no, no, no, no -"
"Here," Lucía's quiet voice broke through his inner monologue of frustration and despair. He opened his eyes, and before him stood a large red horse with a dark mane and tail, head already drooping to the ground to nibble on the grasses growing there. Lucía frowned at him, her brows drawn together in concern.
"Uhh…" he ruffled his hair and smoothed out his ruana, his mouth still open in surprise. "What….?"
"T –t –t!" Lucía turned to the horse and clicked with her tongue, pulling up gently on the halter, looking straight into the horse's large brown eye. "Itziar, you have eaten enough for one night. You must behave for this man. He is going to find his niece, and he needs your help."
"Uhhh…."
"Bruno Madrigal, this is my sister's last horse. She will be furious when she wakes up and Itzi is not here. Mostly furious at Itzi, because at first she will think she just wandered away, but also at me, because-"
"You - you're - giving me the horse?" He stuttered, disbelieving.
"No. I am letting you borrow the horse. I expect you to return her."
"Right – right, absolutely, uh - "
Lucía handed him the reigns. He took them and stared at them, then back up at Lucía, his expression sincere and a bit surprised. "Thank you."
Her mouth turned up into a small, sad smile. "I've spent the evening helping with some children, and my sister. I didn't know about Mirabel. Does the village know? I can - "
"Right – uh, well, there's – I think there's already – a sort of – search party going – but - thank you," Bruno muttered, still gripping the reigns, placing his hands on the horse's back and attempting to lift himself up onto it. "Uh…"
He gave up trying to lift himself up, and then gripped the horse's mane, pointing his toes and trying to scoot his leg up over her back as well. Itziar snorted in annoyance, but true to her nature, did not budge an inch.
Lucía bit her lip, once again attempting not to laugh. "Bruno…"
He let out a frustrated sigh.
"Do you know how to ride?"
"Yes," he said defensively. "Yes, I know how to ride. It's just – it was never my strong suit, you know, and it's been ten years since I've gotten on one!"
She smiled genuinely for the first time in hours. "Would you like some help getting on?"
He sighed again, thunking his head gently on Itziar's flank, before admitting quietly – "Yes."
She shooed him out of the way, and demonstrated how to get on – bending her leg into a springing position, gripping Itzi's mane, and then half jumping, half hoisting herself onto the horse's back. She swung one leg smoothly over Itzi's back as she did so, her skirts flaring out behind her.
"Right. I'll definitely just – do that, then," he said flatly.
Lucía rolled her eyes. "And to get down, you swing your leg behind you and over her back first, before you get down, or you risk being thrown off balance and falling."
She dismounted and took the reigns. "Now you try. Lucky for you, Itzi is an extremely patient horse and as long as there is something for her to eat nearby, she will let you practice this for hours."
"Great," Bruno muttered under his breath, and she was not entirely sure if it was sarcastic or not.
After a few attempts, he managed to get on and off Itziar with relative ease. Lucía reminded him of the basic commands and how to use the reigns, but she cut herself short when she saw the anxiety in his eyes as he scanned the jungle around him.
"All right then. I hope you find her. She's – she's a good girl. She pays attention to people. She notices the children, my daughter - " she cut herself off, swallowing hard. "God be with you, Bruno. Good luck."
"Luck! Luck, right…" He swallowed, and stepped to the side and knocked on the wooden workbench and his own head, muttering 'knock knock knock, knock on wood' to himself as he did so. He turned back to her. "D'you have any salt? Sugar?"
Lucía blinked, processing his request for moment. "Uh…no…"
"It's alright, I always carry a spare," he reassured her, shoving his hand into the pocket of his pants and tossing what appeared to be salt, first over one shoulder and then the other.
He stood in front of her and she held out the reigns. He took them and looked at them again, some unreadable emotion crossing his face. "Thanks. Uh…don't tell anyone about this? Please? I want – I want my family to hear from me that I'm back."
"Oh. Okay." She stepped away from Itzi as he mounted and gently smacked the horse's rear, and the horse began moving away, step by very slow step.
Bruno twisted around after a moment, eyebrow raised in concern. "Uh- " he called. "Uh – does – does it go any faster, or - "
Lucía laughed quietly and motioned with her hands, and his face lit up with recognition. "Right! Right! I'll just - " He pressed her flank with his heels, and Itzi immediately took off at a trot into the jungle, Bruno bouncing along on her back.
Lucía winced, watching him go.
He was going to be sore tomorrow.