Lark and the Sweet Grass

Lark stretched her nose toward a tuft of sweet grass across the stream. The blades looked soft and sunny, and they tickled the breeze like tiny green brushes.

Just then, the water splashed against the bank.

Lark pulled her nose back. “Oh!” she said, and tucked close to her mother’s side.

Her mother, a gentle mare named Juniper, lowered her head to nuzzle Lark’s neck. “The stream is making a cheerful sound,” she said. “But you don’t have to hurry.”

Lark listened. The water went shhh, splash, shhh as it hurried over the stones. The pasture was wide and green, with buttercups shining in the grass. A few birds hopped along the fence. The sweet grass on the far side seemed even greener than the grass beneath Lark’s hooves.

“I want to taste that,” said Lark.

Juniper followed her gaze. “Then we’ll find a good way across.”

Lark was still young, but her sturdy legs had carried her around the pasture since she was very small. Foals could stand and walk soon after they were born, and Lark liked to practice her steps. She could trot after Juniper, turn around a clump of daisies, and stop without bumping into her mother.

At the nearest part of the stream, Lark took one careful step toward the water. The bank rose steeply, and the earth there was dark and muddy. A little piece of it slid down with a soft plop.

Lark froze. The rushing water splashed again, bright drops flicking onto her nose.

“I don’t like this place,” she whispered.

“That’s all right,” said Juniper. “We can look for another way.”

Juniper walked along the stream, and Lark followed close beside her. They passed a flat gray stone and a patch of tall reeds that swayed together. The water curved around a bend, where sunlight danced on its surface.

Juniper stepped into the stream at the bend. The water there flowed more quietly, over a bed of smooth, firm ground. She waded across with unhurried steps and reached the other bank.

Lark watched from the grass. Her mother was safe on the other side, standing beside the sweet green tuft. Lark looked at the steep, muddy bank, then at the gentle slope where Juniper had crossed.

“Could I try that way?” Lark called.

Juniper turned and smiled. “We can try it together.”

Juniper waded back across the gentle place. The water made little rings around her legs, but she kept her steps slow and steady. When she reached Lark, she touched noses with her.

“Come along beside me,” she said. “We’ll follow the bank to the easy slope.”

Lark glanced once more at the steep, muddy spot. A thin ribbon of mud slipped toward the water. She felt a shiver run through her shoulders.

Then she noticed Juniper’s hoofprints. They made a neat trail through the grass, away from the steep bank and toward the bend. Lark set one hoof in the first print.

“Like this?”

“Just like that,” said Juniper.

Together they walked beside the stream. Lark’s ears tipped forward as she listened to the water. It still rushed along the first bank, but around the bend its voice grew softer. Shhh, it murmured over the stones.

At the gentle slope, Juniper paused. “Look,” she said. “You can see the bottom here.”

Lark peered down. The water was shallow and clear. Round stones rested on the streambed, and sunlight made bright patches between them. Juniper stepped in first. The water reached only partway up her legs.

Lark lifted one hoof. She touched the water, then pulled back.

“Cool!” she said.

“It is,” Juniper replied. “And the ground is firm.”

Lark leaned forward to look again. The water rippled around Juniper’s hooves, but it didn’t sweep her away. Juniper stood calmly, waiting.

Lark took a breath. She placed one hoof into the stream. Cool water slid around it. Beneath her hoof, the ground felt solid.

“Firm,” she whispered.

She put down another hoof. The water made a small splash against her legs. Lark’s heart gave a quick thump, but Juniper was right beside her.

“One step,” said Juniper. “Then another.”

Lark walked on. The stream curled around her hooves and slipped away downstream. She felt the stones underfoot, steady as the pasture path.

At the far bank, Lark climbed the gentle slope. Her front hooves reached the grass, then her back hooves followed. She stood on the other side.

“I made it!” she cried.

“You did,” said Juniper, brushing her cheek against Lark’s. The sweet grass waited just ahead, shining with drops of water.

Lark lowered her head to the sweet grass. She took a nibble, chewed, and blinked happily.

“Oh, it tastes like sunshine,” she said.

Juniper nibbled beside her. The grass was tender and sweet, and the air smelled of warm earth and clover. Lark tried another mouthful, then another. She did not need to hurry. There was plenty for both of them.

When Lark lifted her head, a blade of grass clung to her lip. Juniper gently brushed it away with her nose.

“You have a green mustache,” Juniper said.

Lark gave a soft snort. “Do I look like a grass pony?”

“You look like my very brave foal.”

Lark leaned against her mother’s shoulder. From the far bank, the stream sounded different. It murmured over the stones, gentle and low. Lark could see the place where she had crossed. The water still moved, but now she remembered the firm ground beneath her hooves and the cool touch around her legs.

The afternoon sun rested warmly on the pasture. A cloud drifted above them, slow as a sleepy sheep. Nearby, the reeds swayed, and a bird gave one small, quiet chirp.

Juniper led Lark to the shade of a broad tree beside the grass. They settled beneath its leafy branches. Lark folded her legs under her and let her head rest against Juniper’s side.

“Will the stream still be here tomorrow?” Lark asked, her voice already soft with drowsiness.

“Yes,” Juniper said. “And the grass will be here, too.”

Lark listened to the water’s gentle shhh. She thought of the steep, muddy bank, then of the smooth stones and the easy slope. Her first step had been small. The next one had been easier.

Juniper’s warm breath stirred the fur between Lark’s ears. The shade cooled her back, and the grass made a soft bed beneath her.

Lark’s eyes grew heavy. She breathed in the sweet smell of the pasture and listened to the stream murmur nearby, while Juniper stayed close beside her in the quiet evening.