Dropping the bucket, Trystan relieved himself, his mind mulling over pieces of what he knew and didn’t know. As he collected water in the old bucket, a flicker of white caught his eye. He looked up and, where the forest line met the meadow, not too far from his favorite oak, he saw a white horse.
Strange. White horses in the wild were extremely rare.
Trystan placed the bucket on the ground and cautiously, but quickly, made his way toward it. As he neared the animal, he marveled at its beauty—a pure white coat with a golden mane and tail.
Trystan slowed his pace as he approached it. The animal watched him carefully. He placed his outstretched hand upon its face, staring into its brilliant blue eyes. The horse took one step back and whinnied quietly.
“Shh… I’m not going to hurt you,” Trystan said in a gentle voice. “Where did you come from I wonder?”
As he caressed the animal’s face, it sank down on its knees. Trystan moved to accommodate and his eyes darted to a large bleeding gash along its side, stretching nearly from its shoulder to hip.
“Gods’ blood, you’re hurt,” he growled. Trystan pulled off his shirt and used it to put pressure on the wound, anger surging in his blood. “No dying on me now. If I find whomever did this, they will pay severely.”
Trystan continued to subdue the bleeding, demanding with all his heart that this beautiful creature would survive. After a few long moments, a strange, white glow emanated from the wound, lasting for a few seconds, and then it faded. Trystan pulled the cloth away to discover the animal’s injury had been fully healed.
Trystan blinked and looked at his hands, wondering if he’d somehow healed the animal, but that would be absurd and impossible, wouldn’t it? And yet, the animal’s injury was gone.
A dizziness clouded his head.
Before he could think any further, the horse clambered back to its feet. It turned to look at Trystan, its blue eyes focused on his, and he saw it. Protruding from its forehead was a nearly invisible, crystal horn.
Lightheaded, a cold wave swept over him. Darkness obscured the edges of his vision. His muscles went weak, and Trystan found himself losing consciousness and falling.
Trystan awoke in his bed, Noah hovering over him. He started to sit up.
“Slowly, Trystan,” his father said to him. “Thank goodness you’re all right.”
“How … What happened?” he asked.
“I was hoping you could tell us. Lucky for you, Marc went looking for you when he did. He saw you collapse and found you lying on the ground near the tree line, unconscious. He carried you back here.”
“Marc found me?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he now?”
“Searching the area.”
Trystan blinked. “All I remember is a unicorn and using magic to heal it.”
“You must have been dreaming or else you bumped your head pretty good.”
“Yes, it must have been a dream,” he replied to ease his father’s concern, but he remembered it well and, more importantly, it was all too real.
