Before the Sun (Birdy)

Warm breath, a friendly nose searching for a treat; the horses always know this brown haired girl is good for a morning snack.

Filly took the stairs slow, the rattling of buckets indicating that her hands were full. Their voices rang out before she could even make it to the bottom of the steps. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” She spoke under her breath, struggling to keep a grip on the buckets. “Y’all just be patient with me.” By now they were used to her morning routine. She wakes up, gets dressed, and she’ll take her time finding something to eat (first her, then the horses.) When Filly finally delivered the buckets half of the oats had already spilled out onto the floor. She scrambled to scoop them up before her father could come downstairs. Most mornings she fed the horses on her own. It was a tedious chore, but she was happy to receive the attention. Those excited whinnies were meant especially for her (even if it was just because she carried the food.)

After her chores were finished Filly sat down with her back against the barn door. She balanced a book on her knees, hiding her face behind its worn out pages. If her father came downstairs she would pretend she hadn’t noticed the oats. “The horses did it.” That was always a reasonable excuse. Anything that needed fixing was almost always their fault. That’s what her father said. “Care for em, ride em, wake up long ‘fore the sun just to get em’ fed. This is how they repay us." If she played her cards right he would come downstairs and go about cleaning the stalls just grumbling to himself. Filly hardly got blamed for anything, and she didn’t feel obligated to start now.