Would Paul ever return to town? Would I?
Our location had never been a secret, but if we went back to Perga, we’d have to set up a better warning system. We’d become too lax with defense.
Dirt crunched, soft and deliberate. I froze mid-step, heart thudding in my ribcage like it wanted to bolt ahead of me.
A branch snapped somewhere to the left—not the careless crack of a squirrel, but heavy and intentional.
I sank low into the shadows of a large hemlock, my fingers brushing the mossy ground for balance. The forest held its breath with me. Even the wind stilled instead of sending its usual warning.
A low huff fractured the tenuous silence.
I slowly lifted my head, careful not to rustle the dry leaves clinging to the bushes around me. The undergrowth parted ahead, and through the dappled gold bands of sunlight, something large and white moved into the small clearing.
A gleam of blinding, ethereal hair shimmered through the trees, glowing where the sun pierced the canopy. My breath hitched, locked in my throat.
There she stood.
The unicorn.
Her luminescent body was sleek and sinewed. Magic danced off her flanks in shimmering ribbons, distorting the air like heat over fire. Her mane of feathers shifted with the lazy breeze, casting sparkling light to dance with the magic.
Huge, bottomless, and as black as a starless night, her gaze locked onto mine. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. Something ancient passed between us in that silence, something I didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.
I had unknowingly used her feathers as fletching for years.
Merely a myth to me until that fateful day when I rescued her from hunters in the forbidden forest, the majestic beast stood only a few feet away. Her horn caught the light, fracturing the golden rays into a shower of rainbow coloured light.
How many times had I walked past her hoof prints without realizing they belonged to her and not a horse? How many times had she moved in the shadows near me without me noticing?
My magic rose to curl around her. I froze, waiting for the unicorn to react.
Would she remember me? Or would she skewer me on the spot?
The unicorn snorted and lowered her head to munch on more vegetation. Ironic, since the pointed teeth hinted at a meatier diet. Maybe the unicorn was an omnivore, or maybe the fangs were purely defensive.
With one easy shot, I could fell the unicorn and yet she continued to graze as if she didn’t have a care in the world, as if she found comfort and safety in my presence.
The unicorn knew I’d never hurt her.
The air shimmered around her, thick with magic. Warm and pulsing like the moment before a summer storm breaks, the magic curled and danced along the clearing, wrapping the unicorn in a veil. That same magic resonated faintly along the fletching of my arrows. I knew from memory how the magical hum prickled along my fingertips. Just like I knew how the texture of her mane would feel.
Her downy feathers whispered in the wind, just out of reach, and my hand twitched, aching to stretch forward, to make contact.
But hunger gnawed at my stomach. I needed food. And as angry as I was with him, Ace needed food, too.
I kept my gaze locked on the unicorn, but I didn't lift my bow. I could never bring myself to hurt this magical beast.
A sudden crack—sharp and close—snapped through the silence.
I spun to my left, every muscle coiled and my bow half-raised. Nothing moved within the dense tangle of trees.
I crouched low again, heartbeat pounding in my ears. The cold air burned my lungs as I breathed, every exhale forming a small ghost of mist.
Still nothing.
I waited. A single leaf drifted down beside me, slow and soundless.
Cautiously, I turned back toward the clearing.
