The Lightning Bolt by Kate Forsyth

If Luka gave her away, her heart would be broken. Emilia knew she would never get over it. Alida at least was surrounded by her own kind, her nostrils filled with the smell of horse, her ears filled with the wheedling of horse-whisperers who knew how to keep her happy. Zizi was a monkey who had never known another monkey. Luka was her mother and father, the Big Man of her monkey tribe. Van was a stranger to her, a strange smell, a strange voice, a strange hand, and far too likely to let her makeherself ill on fruit and sweets. Emilia knew that Luka felt he was choosing between his monkey’s life and the life of his family, going back, yet the other choice was too hard, too horrible. Because how could Luka forgive himself if he let his whole family die for the sake of his darling monkey girl?
    As they ran past the plundered beehives, the smell of burning grew. Then they heard the hungry roar of flames. Emilia felt sick with anxiety. The smoke in the air stung her eyes. They saw the red glare of fire as they burst out of the wood into the garden.
    One of the roundels was up in flames. Old Man Smith was drawing up water from the well and running to throw it onto the crackling blaze. Van was crouched in the dirt, his arms up over his head, rocking back and forth and moaning in terror. Fairnette was trying to comfort him, tears pouring down her face.
    Luka and Emilia did not stop to talk. They ranto help, Sebastien by their side. Luka seized the bucket from the old man’s hand, and flung it to Sebastien who quickly lowered it into the well.
    Sebastien hauled up the bucket, which was slopping over with water, and passed it to Luka, who passed it Emilia, who passed it to Fairnette, who passed it to the old man, who threw it on the burning roundel. It was of little use, though. With only one bucket, they could not move the water fast enough. The fire leapt and gibbered at the gaping windows, and tore great chunks out of the pointed roof.
    â€˜Van!’ Luka shouted. ‘Get up and help!’
    â€˜I can’t, I can’t!’
    â€˜Criminy, Van, you’ve still got one hand, use it! Find us another bucket!’
    Van looked around wildly, then, unbelievably, got to his feet and ran to the forge. He staggered out with the smithy’s big quench-bucket and flung it to Luka, then went back for another. Soon therewas a breathless, heaving, desperate chain of buckets passing back and forth between the well to the fire. Smoke hung heavy in the air, hurting their lungs. Each splash of water made the fire shrink and wince, but did not douse it. Then, with a roar, the roof collapsed and fell in. Charred and blackened timbers fell on the roof of the cottage, smouldering coals raining everywhere.
    â€˜The whole place will go up in flames now!’ Sebastien cried. ‘We’ve got to have more water.’
    Panting, in tears, Emilia ran her fingers swiftly over her charms, her eyes shut, every atom of her body begging for rain to come and help kill this dreadful hungry beast of red flaming eyes and red devouring mouths. Rain had come before when she needed it. She believed absolutely that it would come again.
    And it did. A sudden rain-burst that drenched them all to the skin, and quenched the fire in a matter of minutes. They stood in the greydownpour, jumping up and down and cheering. Emilia felt so weak with relief that she fell to her knees in the mud. Zizi jumped up and down and squealed, then tried to creep inside Luka’s shirt. She hated the rain.
    Fairnette wept.
    â€˜You came,’ she sobbed. ‘Thank you, thank you! I thought you were gone forever.’
    â€˜We had to come back,’ Emilia said. ‘We smelt the smoke.’
    â€˜That horrible man did it. He knew you’d been here, he heard Rollo bark. He said he’d teach us to lie to him.’
    â€˜I knew it, I knew it!’ Emilia cried. ‘I’m so sorry.’
    â€˜It’s not your fault,’ Fairnette said.