The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the dense forest that surrounded the lower banks of the river. Amanda and Chloe stood shivering, their wet fur dripping as they caught their breath. The rush of their escape from the salt mines still pulsed in their veins, but the quiet of the forest felt almost oppressive after the chaos of the river. They were free—free from the whips, the carts, and the cruel bearded foreman—but they were still donkeys, their long ears twitching at every rustle in the underbrush.
“Well, Chloe, what do we do now?” Amanda asked, her voice a mix of exhaustion and uncertainty. Amanda shook her head, spraying water from her mane. Her large brown eyes scanned the shadowy trees, searching for a path forward.
“I don’t know, Amanda,” Chloe admitted, her voice soft but resolute. Chloe’s small frame trembled, her light brown fur glistening in the moonlight. “But one thing’s for sure—I never want to see a mine again. Not ever.”
“Yeah, I’m with you on that.” Amanda nodded, her tail swishing instinctively.
“Maybe we should stay away from humans altogether. They’re nothing but trouble.” Chloe added. Chloe’s words caught Amanda off guard.
“What do you mean, stay away from humans?” Amanda asked, tilting her head. Her ears flopped slightly, betraying her surprise.
Chloe’s amber eyes glistened with tears as she lowered her snout to the ground. “Humans see us as beasts of burden, Amanda. Animals to be whipped and worked until we break. I can still feel those lashes on my back—it hurt so much.” Her voice cracked, and a soft “Hee-haw” slipped out, unbidden. “I don’t want to be hurt again.”
Amanda’s heart sank. Chloe’s words stung not just because of their truth, but because of how she said them—speaking of humans as if she were already something else entirely. Just months ago, Chloe had been a giggling eight-year-old girl, trailing after her friends. Now, she was a jenny, distancing herself from the human world. But Amanda understood her fear. The whip marks on Chloe’s back mirrored her own, a constant reminder of their suffering in the mines.
Still, Amanda couldn’t let go of hope. She stepped closer, nudging Chloe’s shoulder with her snout. “Chloe, listen,” she said gently. “We can’t give up on humans entirely. There might be someone out there who can help us—someone who knows about curses, who can turn us back into girls.”
Chloe lifted her head, her ears drooping skeptically. “Turn us back? Amanda, I’ve never heard of animals becoming human again. Do you really think anyone out there knows how to break a curse like this?” Her tail flicked nervously, and her voice rose. “And even if they did, how would we tell them? All we can do is bray!” She let out a frustrated “HEE-HAW HEE-HAW,” her small hooves stamping the ground.
Amanda flinched at the sound, knowing Chloe was right. Their voices were gone, replaced by the coarse, animalistic calls of donkeys. But she refused to let despair win. “There have to be smart humans out there, Chloe—scholars, maybe, or wizards. Someone who studies magic. We just need to find them.” She tried to sound confident, but doubt gnawed at her. What if Chloe was right? What if this was permanent?
Chloe’s ears flattened, and she brayed again, softer this time. “Maybe… but I’m tired, Amanda. I’m tired of hoping for something that might not happen. We’re free now—really free. If I have to be a donkey forever, at least I want to be a wild one, living in the forest, eating grass, not chained to a cart.” She paused, then added with a defiant bray, “HEE-HAW HEE-HAW! A free, wild jenny!”
Amanda wanted to argue, to cling to the idea of reclaiming her human life, but Chloe’s words stirred something in her. The forest around them felt safe, alive with the scent of pine and earth. She lowered her snout to the soft, green grass at the river’s edge and sniffed. It smelled fresh, vibrant—nothing like the dry, dusty hay of the mines.
“Okay, Chloe,” Amanda said finally. “Let’s stay here for now. This forest looks like a good place to rest and figure things out. Look at this grass—it’s perfect.” Amanda took a tentative bite, her large teeth tearing through the tender blades. The flavor burst across her tongue, sweet and juicy, a far cry from the stale hay she’d forced down in the mines.
Chloe joined her, her small muzzle dipping eagerly into the grass. For a moment, they grazed in silence, the rhythmic crunch of their chewing blending with the soft gurgle of the river. Amanda’s stomach growled, grateful for something fresh, but a pang of sadness hit her. This was what donkeys did—graze, wander, survive. Was this really her life now? Suddenly, Chloe lifted her head, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed the air.
“Amanda, do you smell that?” Chloe asked, her tail swishing excitedly.
Amanda paused, raising her snout. A new scent wafted through the forest, richer and more enticing than the grass. It was earthy, sweet, almost intoxicating.
“What is that?” Amanda wondered aloud, her mouth watering. “It’s making me hungrier.”
Chloe’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Let’s find out!” she said, already trotting toward the source of the smell. Amanda hesitated, then followed, her hooves sinking into the soft forest floor as they ventured deeper into the woods.
After a few minutes, the trees parted to reveal a wooden cabin nestled in a clearing, its chimney puffing faint smoke into the night sky. Beside it was a sprawling vegetable garden, its rows bursting with vibrant greens, oranges, and reds. Carrots, cabbages, radishes, and lettuces glowed under the moonlight, their scents overwhelming Amanda and Chloe’s senses.
“Oh, wow,” Chloe breathed, her tail wagging like a metronome. “Look at all that food!”
Amanda’s stomach rumbled, but caution tugged at her. “We shouldn’t take too much,” Amanda warned. “Maybe just a few carrots. We don’t want to cause trouble.”
Chloe nodded, but her eyes were fixed on a plump cabbage, her hunger overriding her restraint. The garden was enclosed by a low wooden fence, too high for Chloe to jump alone. Amanda nudged her with her snout, boosting her over the barrier. Chloe scrambled up, her small hooves scrabbling against the wood, and landed with a soft thud on the other side. Amanda followed, clearing the fence with a single, effortless leap, her donkey strength surprising her.
Inside the garden, they wandered the rows, their noses twitching at the array of vegetables. Chloe didn’t hesitate, diving into a cabbage and tearing off a leafy chunk with her teeth.
“Mmm!” Chloe mumbled, her tail swishing furiously. “This is amazing!”
Amanda’s resolve wavered. As a human girl, she’d hated vegetables, especially raw ones, but now her donkey instincts craved them. She spotted a carrot, its green tops swaying gently, and lowered her head. Gripping the leaves with her teeth, she tugged, grunting as the carrot resisted before popping free from the soil. It was massive, longer than her forearm had been as a girl. She bit into it, the crisp, sweet flavor exploding in her mouth.
“Oh, this is good,” Amanda murmured, taking another bite. When she finished, she brayed joyfully, “HEE-HAAAW HEE-HAAAW!” then froze, clamping her jaws shut.
“Quiet, Amanda,” Chloe scolded her friend. “You’ll wake someone.”
But the hunger was relentless. Amanda moved to another carrot, then another, her teeth working eagerly. Chloe, meanwhile, had moved on to a patch of radishes, her small frame vibrating with delight as she munched. Amanda found a zucchini, its skin glossy and inviting, and tore into it, then sampled celery, turnips, spinach, cucumbers, broccoli, and a head of lettuce that crunched satisfyingly between her teeth. The garden was a feast, a stark contrast to the meager hay of the mines, and they lost themselves in it.
Exhausted and stuffed, their bellies swollen, Amanda and Chloe curled up together in the soft soil, surrounded by scattered vegetable scraps. The warmth of their furry bodies and the gentle rhythm of their breathing lulled them into a deep, contented sleep.
*******
The next morning, a furious shout jolted them awake.
“You stupid, gluttonous animals!”
Amanda’s eyes snapped open to see a burly man storming toward them, his face red with rage. He wore a farmer’s overalls, his dark hair streaked with gray, and his eyes blazed as he surveyed the wrecked garden.
“This won’t stand, you hear me? You’ll pay for eating my crops!”
Chloe whimpered, scrambling to her hooves, but Amanda froze as the man grabbed two short reins from a nearby shed. He approached stealthily, his boots silent on the soil, and slipped the reins over their snouts before they could react. The leather bit into Amanda’s muzzle, and she thrashed, but the man’s grip was ironclad.
“Got you now, you greedy jennies!” the man bellowed, yanking the reins to wake them fully. “You’ll pay dearly for this!”
“HEE-HAW HEE-HAW!” Amanda brayed, her voice a desperate plea. “Please, we were starving! Have mercy!” But to the man, it was just animal noise. Chloe joined in, her high-pitched brays echoing Amanda’s panic.
“We’re not donkeys! We’re girls! Don’t hurt us!” they tried to scream, but only “HAAAW HEEEE-HAAAW!” came out.
The man dragged them toward a shed, his face grim. “I’ll make boots and belts from your hides,” he muttered, tying their reins to a wooden beam inside. Amanda’s heart pounded as he rummaged in a cabinet and pulled out a long, gleaming knife. Chloe’s brays turned to terrified sobs, and Amanda squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the worst.
“Papa, the rope for the firewood’s run out. I’m heading to the market to—” A young voice cut through the tension. Amanda cracked open an eye to see a boy, about fifteen, standing in the shed’s doorway. He was barefoot, dressed in simple farm clothes, with tousled dark hair and kind, hazel eyes. His gaze darted from his father’s knife to the trembling donkeys, and his face paled. “Papa, what are you doing?”
The man, Silvio, turned, his expression softening slightly. “These blasted mules ate half the garden last night!” he growled, gesturing at the devastated rows outside. “I’m teaching them a lesson.”
The boy, Emanuele, stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied Amanda and Chloe. “Where’d they come from? And why’ve you got them tied up like that?” He pointed at Chloe. “They’re not even big enough to jump that fence, especially the little one.”
“I don’t know how they did it, but they’re paying for it,” Silvio snapped, grabbing a sharpening stone. The scrape of the knife against it made Amanda’s fur stand on end. “I’ll sell their hides to cover the loss. Vegetables don’t grow on trees, you know.”
Emanuele frowned, crossing his arms. “Since when do you skin donkeys for making a mess, Papa? You’ve never been cruel to our animals.” His voice was calm but firm, a quiet challenge.
Silvio paused, the knife still in hand. “These aren’t ours. They’re strays, and they destroyed our food. I’ve got to make up for it somehow.”
“They’re animals, Papa,” Emanuele said, stepping between his father and the donkeys. “They don’t know better. And you don’t even know how to tan hides!” He cracked a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.
Silvio’s lips twitched, a grudging chuckle escaping. “Well, I could learn, couldn’t I?” he said, his tone half-joking.
Emanuele seized the moment. “If their owner shows up and finds you’ve skinned them, he’ll be furious. You’d be in more trouble than they are.”
Silvio sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine, but if the owner wants them back, he’s paying for every leaf they ate.” He lowered the knife, his eyes scanning Amanda and Chloe. For the first time, he noticed the whip scars crisscrossing their backs and hindquarters. “Look at them—covered in lash marks. Whoever owned them didn’t care much. Probably won’t come looking.”
Emanuele knelt beside Chloe, his fingers brushing her scarred flank. “You want to sell scarred hides, Papa? No one’s buying that.” His voice was gentle, but the point landed.
Silvio rubbed his temples, then tossed the knife and sharpener back into the cabinet with a clatter.
“Alright, alright,” Silvio muttered. “They’ll work with the other donkeys, hauling firewood. That’s their punishment.” He glanced at Emanuele. “I’m checking what’s left of the garden. You’re off to the market for rope, right? Take the bigger one with you. She’s probably tame enough after all those whips.”
Amanda’s heart sank at the word “work.” From salt mines to firewood—had they learned nothing? Their reckless choices had turned them from girls to beasts of burden, and now their gluttony had trapped them again. But Silvio’s tone was softer now, and Emanuele’s presence felt like a lifeline. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as the mines.
Silvio handed Emanuele some coins and stomped off toward the garden. Emanuele untied Amanda and Chloe’s reins, his hands gentle as he scratched behind their ears.
“My papa’s not a bad man,” the boy said softly, his voice warm. “He just gets mad fast, but he cools off quick, too. He takes good care of our donkeys, and I promise he’ll treat you two well. You’re young, so you won’t carry heavy loads. I’ll help you myself.”
Amanda leaned into his touch, her fear easing. Emanuele’s kindness was a stark contrast to the miners’ cruelty, and his handsome face—strong jaw, bright eyes—made her wish she could speak, could thank him for saving them. Chloe’s tail wagged slightly, her small frame relaxing under his scratches.
“I’m Emanuele, by the way,” he continued, smiling. “And Papa’s Silvio. You’re safe here, I swear.” He led them toward the stable, his hands steady on the reins. At the stable door, he paused, tying Chloe inside with the other donkeys. “You’ll see your friend soon,” he told Amanda, misreading their bond. “Or sister, maybe? I don’t know.” He chuckled, patting her mane.
Amanda’s heart lifted. Emanuele spoke to her like she was a person, not just an animal. It was the closest she’d felt to human since Pleasure Island. He rubbed her swollen belly, still bloated from the garden feast. “Wow, you really went to town on those vegetables,” he teased. “But I don’t blame you. With an owner who whipped you like this, you must’ve been starving.” He ran a hand down her thin legs, his touch soothing. “You’re too skinny under all this fur. Don’t worry—we feed our donkeys well. Apples, carrots, oats, barley, fresh hay. You’ll love it.”
The mention of apples—her favorite fruit as a girl—sent a thrill through Amanda. “HEE-HAW!” she brayed, her tail swishing with excitement. Emanuele laughed, delighted by her enthusiasm.
“You like that idea, huh? Good. I think you trust me already.” He stood, his expression thoughtful. “You need names. Let’s call you Bella—beautiful, right? And the little one… Dolce, because she’s sweet.” Amanda’s ears perked up. Bella. It felt right, a nod to the girl she’d been. “Alright, Bella,” Emanuele said, swinging onto her back with surprising ease. “Let’s go.”
Amanda tensed, unused to being ridden, but Emanuele’s weight was light, his movements gentle. He clicked his tongue and tapped her sides with his bare feet, urging her forward. She obeyed, her hooves clopping along a forest path bathed in morning light. The air was cool, the breeze rustling through tall trees, and Amanda found herself enjoying the rhythm of the walk, Emanuele’s soft voice a comforting hum above her.
“You’re so docile,” he said after a while, his tone curious. “Your old owners must’ve scared you silly to make you this obedient. Cruel bastards, overworking you and Dolce like that.” He leaned forward, stroking her flank. “I bet you came from the salt mines up in the hills. They’re brutal to donkeys there—always young ones, too, like you. I’ve always wondered where they get so many. No breeding farms around here could supply that many.”
Amanda’s ears swiveled back, her heart racing. He was so close to the truth. She wanted to tell him—about Pleasure Island, the Coachwoman, the curse that turned girls into donkeys. But all she could do was plod along, carrying him toward the village. Emanuele’s voice softened.
“If those miners come looking for you, I won’t let them take you back. I’ll fight for you and Dolce, I promise.”
His words warmed her, and she let out a soft “Hee-haw,” her tail flicking with gratitude. Emanuele patted her back.
“Your fur’s so soft, Bella. You’re a good girl.”
As they entered the Tuscan village, Amanda recognized the region from the locals’ accents and the market stalls brimming with olives, cheeses, and woven baskets. Emanuele guided her through the bustling streets, his chatter a mix of stories about his life as a woodcutter’s son and songs hummed under his breath. Amanda soaked it in, relishing the human connection, even if she couldn’t respond.
At a schoolyard, Emanuele pulled her to a stop with a gentle “Hoo, hoo.” Children streamed into the building, their laughter echoing. Amanda glanced back to see Emanuele staring at the school, his face shadowed with longing.
“I’d give anything to go there, Bella,” he said quietly, scratching between her ears. “I can read a bit, do some math, but I want to learn more. Papa needs me at home, though.” He sighed, then smiled wryly. “You don’t have to worry about that, do you? Donkeys live such simple lives. Sometimes I’m jealous.”
Amanda’s ears drooped, shame washing over her. Emanuele yearned for the education she’d thrown away, the classes she’d skipped to chase fun on Pleasure Island. Now she was paying for it—furry, hoofed, and carrying a boy who’d never know her true story. She brayed softly, a mix of regret and resolve. She had to find a way back, for herself and Chloe.
At the market, Emanuele bought a thick coil of rope, securing it carefully across Amanda’s back. It was heavier than him, but her donkey strength held firm. He chose to walk beside her on the return trip, holding her rein loosely. “You did great, Bella,” he said, his voice full of
pride. “Papa’s gonna like you.”
Back at the cabin, Emanuele unloaded the rope and led Amanda to the stable. He offered her a handful of raw barley grains, which she munched eagerly from his palm, savoring the nutty flavor. When she finished, gratitude overwhelmed her. Without thinking, she licked his cheek—a donkey’s gesture, but meant as a human thank-you for his kindness. Emanuele laughed, ruffling her mane.
“You’re a sweet one, Bella. We’re gonna be good friends.”
He brought her into the stable, where Chloe was already settled on a straw mat, surrounded by other donkeys. Emanuele removed their reins and swapped them for two larger donkeys, leading them out to haul firewood. “See you soon, Dolce, Bella,” he called, flashing a grin.
Amanda settled onto her mat, the stable’s warmth a stark contrast to the mines’ cold dirt floors.
“Emanuele’s a great guy,” Amanda said to Chloe, her voice low to avoid disturbing the other donkeys.
Chloe’s tail wagged, her amber eyes bright. “Yeah, and Silvio’s not so bad either. Look at this place!” She gestured with her snout at the cozy stable, each donkey with its own mat and a bucket of oats nearby. “Silvio brushes them, feeds them well—oats, apples, everything! He didn’t give me my oats yet, probably still mad about the garden, but he promised I’d get some tonight.”
Amanda blinked, surprised by Chloe’s enthusiasm. “It’s definitely better than the mines,” she agreed, sinking onto her mat. It wasn’t her old bed, but it was soft and clean, a luxury compared to the bare ground. “These donkeys seem happy, too.”
“Oh, they’re so nice!” Chloe chirped. “When I got here, they sniffed me, licked me, welcomed me right away.”
“You talked to them?” Amanda asked, confused.
Chloe shook her head. “No, they’re real donkeys—born donkeys. Their brays are just… brays. But I can tell they’re friendly. They don’t talk like us, but I get them.” She brayed softly, mimicking a gesture one of the donkeys had made.
Amanda’s ears twitched. Chloe was already understanding the language of true donkeys, adapting to their world in a way Amanda hadn’t.
In the mines, every donkey had been a transformed child, their brays laced with human regret. Here, surrounded by natural donkeys, Chloe seemed to be slipping further into her animal instincts. Amanda wondered if she’d follow the same path—and how long it would take.