“Yes, but do you have a name unique only to you? You know…like how I am a human but my name is Cora.”
I don’t remember. His words were tinged with agitation. She got the distinct feeling he was grasping for an answer to her question…but it was lost to him.
Cora furrowed her brow. Could he be such an ancient creature that he no longer remembered his name? If so, where had he been all this time? “Where are you from?”
A pause. Then,Forest.
“What forest? These forests? Have you always lived in Khero?”
Again, she got the sense he was straining to find the answer. It was almost painful for him.Not these forests. Like here but not here. Close, but not close at all.
Cora wanted him to elaborate but his feelings of frustration were enough to tell her he likely couldn’t. Theories began to buzz through her mind. What if the unicorns hadn’t been extinct but in some sort of slumber? What if they’d been…trapped in some way? Of course, if unicorns were returning, then perhaps other fae creatures were too. There could be dragons, pixies, kelpies, selkies—
Only my kind, he said, cutting through her thoughts.Only my kind are here. No others. A wave of sorrow seeped from the unicorn, sinking Cora’s heart.
“What do you think happened to the others? Better yet, what happened to you? Your kind hasn’t been seen in hundreds of years.”
He scraped the earth with a hoof.Don’t remember. I try. I try and try, but it’s…gone. All I remember is…my forest. Then being here. Hunted.
“How long have you been here?”
Time feels…not what I remember it feeling. Wasn’t here long before I met you.
The unicorn’s predicament both saddened and fascinated her. Before her very eyes was a myth come to life. A mystery unraveling. Not even the Forest People knew the creatures had returned.
Well, at least they hadn’t before Roije informed the elders. And that was only if they hadn’t known all along and kept the intel from the rest of the commune.
Cora’s heart clenched with a mixture of anger and longing. She missed Maiya. Salinda. The comfort of her daily routine. She missed what it was like when she hadn’t known just how great a danger her presence was. But mingled with those feelings was irritation at the elders’ unwillingness to intervene with the plight of the unicorns. She understood why the Forest People refused to involve themselves with royal matters, but surely the capture of fae creatures was worth taking a stand against. If she had the support of the commune—even just a handful of their best trackers and hunters—they could overpower the men she followed, keep one alive for the sake of leading them to the next party, and then attack them too. She could free the unicorns and leave no one alive to tell the tale of the mysterious people who’d interfered—
So violent, the unicorn said with disdain.
Cora pursed her lips. The Forest People would likely feel the same about her bloody fantasy. They were a nonviolent people. Even hunting was done with ritual reverence. No life was taken without need. No tree was felled without blessing the soil it belonged to. No hide was skinned without gratitude for the animal that gave its life to provide food and warmth.
Another reason Cora never truly belonged with the Forest People. When she’d killed Erwin, she hadn’t bothered to bless his soul or pray for his family. And she still had no desire to.
You can call me something, the unicorn said. The offer was stiff and begrudging, but it came with something that felt like camaraderie. Perhaps he too understood Cora’s pent-up rage.
“You mean I can give you a name?”
Better be good.
“All right.” She studied his white fur flecked with silver. His wounds left by Erwin’s whip were almost fully healed, and his coat looked twice as lustrous as it had been when they’d first met. He was graceful. Quiet. “How about…Ghost?”
Rather not be named after being dead.
“Fair enough. Snowball?”
He gave a derisive whinny.I am not a snowball.
“Mister Cuddles?” Cora smirked.
He sidled away from her, bristling with indignation.You mock me. I am not to be cuddled. I am strong and fearless. I am brave. Hunters tremble at the pound of my hooves. It was the most descriptive communication she’d ever felt from him. Which meant she really must have gotten under his skin.
“Fine,” she said with a soft chuckle. “Something brave then. Thunder Hoof. Rage Mane. Valorous Maximus.”
He radiated with a hint of approval.I sort of like the last one. Want it simpler though.
“Valor? No, Valorre.”
