Read Online Forty Days: Neima's Ark, Book One by Stephanie Parent - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Parent
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but he doesn’t have one, so I just put my hands on my
hips and say, “What a waste! I had to carry that water all the way
from the riv—”
The elephant blows the
last drops of water from its trunk right into my face, and I gasp.
Shai’s laugh rings out, and I swear the elephant is laughing too,
along with his sister behind him, both their mouths open wide. And,
all right, I’m smiling as well. The cool water is refreshing, even if it’s
wasteful.
“ You—you—” Clearly I’ll
have to give the elephant a name. “I’ll call you
Bilal”—wet—“because that’s what you’ve made me.”
The female elephant taps her trunk on
my shoulder, reminding me not to leave her out.
“ We could call her Enise,”
Shai suggests, patting the elephant atop her head.
Enise means lovable or friendly, and
both seem perfect to me.
***
By the time we leave the ark, the sun
is low in the sky—or it would be if we could see it, but the clouds
have grown even thicker, nearly hiding the sun’s rays completely.
At first I’m just happy to breathe air free of animal odors, but
then I see Noah facing Munzir and the clump of disgruntled
villagers behind him. My chest tightens, and when I catch sight of
Jorin standing beside the river, looking from his father to me with
those wide, worried eyes, what last bit of breath remains is
squeezed from my lungs.
Mother clutches my hand and yanks me
forward. “Come on,” she mutters, “leave the men to their arguing.
We still have supper to prepare.”
But as we move closer to the crowd, we
can’t help but listen to Munzir’s shouts. His voice is so acrid,
hateful, even, that I find it hard to believe he’s Jorin’s father.
“I’ll give you one more day,” he says, “and if that tiger isn’t
gone, I’ll, I’ll—”
“ You’ll do nothing,” Noah
breaks in. His own voice is lower, calmer, yet it thrums with the
strength of his conviction as he proclaims, “For God will smite
down any who interfere with His will.”
Munzir opens his mouth,
perhaps to laugh; but just at that moment a single drop of rain
falls from the sky, so slowly, so agonizingly slowly, and lands
with an audible plink on the crown of Munzir’s forehead. It traces its way down the
center of his nose, over the curves of his now-closed lips, and
down his chin until it falls from the tip of his beard,
disappearing into the dry, thirsty ground.
We all wait, breaths held, for the
next drop to fall, perhaps on our own sweat-soaked, thirsty
foreheads. But the clouds seem to be holding their breath too, and
no more raindrops come. Instead, the words fall from Munzir’s
mouth:
“ If that tiger isn’t gone
by the day after tomorrow,” he says, “I’ll burn down your precious
ark, and every creature within it.”
Chapter Five
On the sixth day, we feed and water
the animals.
While Noah remains in his cottage all
morning, unconcerned, my father and uncle argue over whether to
leave the tiger outside the ark, where it—she—will antagonize the
villagers, or bring her inside, where she will antagonize the other
animals. Eventually they bring her in, and the instant squeals and
grumbles, whimpers and moans, and even a few low growls from
throughout the ark astound me. The animals seem to possess some
innate sense, beyond hearing or smell or sight, that alerts them to
the presence of a true predator.
Even disregarding the tiger, though,
the animals are clearly suffering from their confinement. Some pace
and snarl in agitation; others appear listless and apathetic. I
imagine that they, like me, are waiting for the slap-slap of the
first raindrops against the ark’s wooden roof. I suspect that the
echo of falling rain will dance beneath the ark’s high rafters,
like a cacophony of eager footsteps; that it will sound nothing
like the familiar hiss and sizzle of the raindrops disappearing
into the thatched roof of our cottage. But I don’t find out, for
since that first drop of rain against
hips and say, “What a waste! I had to carry that water all the way
from the riv—”
The elephant blows the
last drops of water from its trunk right into my face, and I gasp.
Shai’s laugh rings out, and I swear the elephant is laughing too,
along with his sister behind him, both their mouths open wide. And,
all right, I’m smiling as well. The cool water is refreshing, even if it’s
wasteful.
“ You—you—” Clearly I’ll
have to give the elephant a name. “I’ll call you
Bilal”—wet—“because that’s what you’ve made me.”
The female elephant taps her trunk on
my shoulder, reminding me not to leave her out.
“ We could call her Enise,”
Shai suggests, patting the elephant atop her head.
Enise means lovable or friendly, and
both seem perfect to me.
***
By the time we leave the ark, the sun
is low in the sky—or it would be if we could see it, but the clouds
have grown even thicker, nearly hiding the sun’s rays completely.
At first I’m just happy to breathe air free of animal odors, but
then I see Noah facing Munzir and the clump of disgruntled
villagers behind him. My chest tightens, and when I catch sight of
Jorin standing beside the river, looking from his father to me with
those wide, worried eyes, what last bit of breath remains is
squeezed from my lungs.
Mother clutches my hand and yanks me
forward. “Come on,” she mutters, “leave the men to their arguing.
We still have supper to prepare.”
But as we move closer to the crowd, we
can’t help but listen to Munzir’s shouts. His voice is so acrid,
hateful, even, that I find it hard to believe he’s Jorin’s father.
“I’ll give you one more day,” he says, “and if that tiger isn’t
gone, I’ll, I’ll—”
“ You’ll do nothing,” Noah
breaks in. His own voice is lower, calmer, yet it thrums with the
strength of his conviction as he proclaims, “For God will smite
down any who interfere with His will.”
Munzir opens his mouth,
perhaps to laugh; but just at that moment a single drop of rain
falls from the sky, so slowly, so agonizingly slowly, and lands
with an audible plink on the crown of Munzir’s forehead. It traces its way down the
center of his nose, over the curves of his now-closed lips, and
down his chin until it falls from the tip of his beard,
disappearing into the dry, thirsty ground.
We all wait, breaths held, for the
next drop to fall, perhaps on our own sweat-soaked, thirsty
foreheads. But the clouds seem to be holding their breath too, and
no more raindrops come. Instead, the words fall from Munzir’s
mouth:
“ If that tiger isn’t gone
by the day after tomorrow,” he says, “I’ll burn down your precious
ark, and every creature within it.”
Chapter Five
On the sixth day, we feed and water
the animals.
While Noah remains in his cottage all
morning, unconcerned, my father and uncle argue over whether to
leave the tiger outside the ark, where it—she—will antagonize the
villagers, or bring her inside, where she will antagonize the other
animals. Eventually they bring her in, and the instant squeals and
grumbles, whimpers and moans, and even a few low growls from
throughout the ark astound me. The animals seem to possess some
innate sense, beyond hearing or smell or sight, that alerts them to
the presence of a true predator.
Even disregarding the tiger, though,
the animals are clearly suffering from their confinement. Some pace
and snarl in agitation; others appear listless and apathetic. I
imagine that they, like me, are waiting for the slap-slap of the
first raindrops against the ark’s wooden roof. I suspect that the
echo of falling rain will dance beneath the ark’s high rafters,
like a cacophony of eager footsteps; that it will sound nothing
like the familiar hiss and sizzle of the raindrops disappearing
into the thatched roof of our cottage. But I don’t find out, for
since that first drop of rain against
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