"Like, more people to help, but I think wearethe backup," Wade said. "A hurt unicorn is a pretty big deal. If Beth thinks we can handle it, then we should trust her judgment."
"True and we don't want to draw too much attention," Daniel said, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Who knows what kind of trouble a unicorn in distress might attract?"
The drive to Beth's location was a quiet one, with only the hum of the truck's engine and the occasional chirp of a bird outside our window. We were heading into a dream, or maybe a fairy tale. The thought made me chuckle softly, earning a curious glance from Daniel.
"Sorry," I said sheepishly, "I just never imagined I'd be driving through the woods to save a unicorn."
"Life's full of surprises," Daniel said with a smile.
Wade nodded in agreement, his focus on the bag he'd packed earlier, double-checking its contents.
"Especially in this town," Wade said, giving us a look.
The GPS showed that we were as close to our destination as we could reach on a road, and we slowed down, parking the truck. The forest closed in around us, its scent earthy and rich with damp soil, decaying leaves, and pine needles. It was strangely comforting, almost as though the woods were inviting us in. So, we ventured forth.
Daniel took the lead, "Beth shouldn't be too far from here. Just keep an eye out for any, I don't know, anything nefarious."
We trekked through the woods, navigating over rocks and fallen branches, the sunlight filtering through the trees casting dappled patterns on the ground below. Despite the seriousnessof the situation, I couldn't help but find a bit of humor in it. I mean, really, who gets to say they went on a unicorn rescue mission?
We stumbled upon a few obstacles along the way, a stream we had to cross by hopping on slippery rocks, some thorny bushes that left me cursing under my breath as I extricated myself from them, and a rather territorial squirrel that took issue with our presence.
"Is it just me," I rubbed the spot where the squirrel had nipped at me, "or are animals in this town just weirder than usual?"
"Definitely weirder." Wade eyed the retreating squirrel warily.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was probably closer to thirty minutes, we found Beth. She was standing near a small clearing, her body tense, her gaze locked onto something we couldn't yet see. As we approached, she glanced toward us, relief flooding her features.
"Thank goodness you're here," she said urgently. "It's over there, caught in a trap. I've tried talking to it, but it's too scared. I thought maybe if one of you approached slowly and calmly, we might have a better chance."
Beth's pleading words floated on the breeze, a desperate attempt to connect with the magnificent creature that stood before us. The unicorn was more breathtaking than I could have ever imagined. Its pure white coat shimmered like freshly fallen snow beneath the dappled sunlight. Its beauty was marred by the cruel bear trap that had ensnared its delicate front leg, blood staining the gleaming fur and painting the forest floor.
"Please, let me help you," Beth said. The unicorn simply tossed its head, its mane rippling like liquid silver, and pulled harderagainst the trap. Its eyes were wide with fear and pain, the vibrant blue irises made even more striking by the single crystalline tear that traced down its ethereal face.
Wade stepped forward. "Beth, talking isn't working. You need to sing."
"Sing?" She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. I didn't blame her. I wouldn't want to sing either. "You think that'll work?"
"Unicorns are known to communicate through song," Wade said. "Try it. While you sing, I'll approach it slowly and try to help."
I bit back a laugh at the thought of Beth's notoriously off-key singing saving the day, but I held my tongue. This was no time for jokes, a unicorn's life hung in the balance.
Beth hesitated for a moment, then took a breath, and began to sing. Her voice wavered at first, unsure and unsteady, but as she continued, it grew stronger and more confident. It wasn't a perfect performance, but it carried an undeniable sincerity that resonated with the creature. The unicorn stopped thrashing, its ears perking up, trying to catch every note of Beth's emotional serenade.
Wade moved forward with the stealth of a panther, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He had a small bag slung over his shoulder, no doubt filled with tools and supplies to aid in the unicorn's rescue. As he drew nearer, I held my breath, praying that the trust Beth's song had forged would be enough to allow him to help.
"Stay calm," Wade said, his voice barely a whisper as he reached the unicorn's side. The creature stood still, its gaze now locked onto Wade, like it sensed that he meant no harm.
Beth's song continued, providing a soothing soundtrack to the tense scene unfolding before us. Time slowed down as Wade carefully worked the trap open, releasing the unicorn's leg from its cruel grasp. The fear in the creature's eyes faded, replaced with a cautious hope.
Wade began to sing along with Beth, “You’re safe, magnificent one. Safe, and will be free soon. Safe, just trust in us.”
The creature held still, calmness flowing through it, and their song created a melody that even eased my anxiety. It was like they’d done this a thousand times before. But, also, like they were sirens capable of making magical songs.
With one final push, the trap fell away, and the unicorn was free. Wade quickly applied a healing paste to the wound, the tension in his shoulders easing as the creature showed no signs of distress or further injury.
To my amazement, the unicorn responded, its own song harmonizing with Beth and Wade’s. The sound was ethereal, like wind chimes on a breezy day, but with an undercurrent of sadness that tugged at my heartstrings. I was overwhelmingly humbled by the beauty of their song, three vastly different beings coming together in a moment of shared vulnerability.
"Someone has been setting these traps," the unicorn sang, its voice lilting and haunting. "Many of us have disappeared, our fates unknown. I feared you were here for my horn, seeking to claim its power for your own."
