Twilight rose around me, chilling the air. It was a welcome relief as sweat dripped down my spine. My legs burned, my lungs ached, and I was running out of water I’d filled my skin with before I left the stream. If I was this worn out and miserable, what must the foals be feeling?
They’d been cramped in that tiny pen. I had no idea if they’d been let out to move around or get food, or if they’d been locked up the whole time. As young, newborn unicorns, they’d spent days upon days roaming the meadows of our homeland. Their magic was young, fresh, and they sparkled like the morning dew.
Others had tried to mar their purity, their innocence. I’d murder the Being who kidnapped them if I had the chance. When I had the chance.
One thing held true—those who tried to profit by evil would continue to try. One day the foals would be ready to tell me more. Once I found them, damn it.
My legs were leaden stumps that went up and down without fail, direction from my brain unnecessary. My feet burned like coals on the end of the stumps, but every so often on the edge of the wind, I’d hear the clip of a hoof. I was close, getting closer. I refused to stop, not when I was this close.
They’d slowed in the night, probably due to the lack of light. I’d shifted my eyes to gain better night vision and kept going. Over hills, through another bare arm of the forest littered with thin saplings breaking out from the trunks of the older, established birch trees. Gradually the trees had thinned, the trail rising from the vegetation into the low mountains above the hills. Rocks littered the ground, stabbing at my tender soles.
I longed to climb on Londe’s back, to hug my mate, to let him carry me as we made our way home with the foals. My water drained, thirst began to plague me. This was torture, for me and them.
No way would my mate allow our young to suffer this way. Not if he could stop it. Finally, finally I began to hear whole words, sentences, and I suppressed a growl.
There was a Being with them. Something with a thin, cruel voice. It drove them, goading them, threats of violence and death issued with evil hisses.
What was it?
I had to let my family know I was close without alerting it. Marces. He had a bird call he repeated, chasing the long-necked, white-feathered friends through the meadows at home until he sent the entire flock to the sky to whistle down at him in admonition.
Then he’d laugh and laugh.
So I whistled once, waited a few seconds, then whistled again. Moving to a silent glide, I stayed as low as possible, using rocks and boulders as cover.
“Get him up!” the scathing voice hissed.
“I’m trying.”
That was Londe’s voice. He sounded frantic. “Marces, get up. Get up please. I know you’re exhausted. You have to try. Please.”
The sound of him begging enraged me. Blood suffused my face, flooding my muscles, readying for the fight.
I was close to Londe and Marces, from the sounds. I risked a peek around the boulder. Yes. There they were, my mate, my son. I focused on Londe. ‘I am here. Don’t look!’ He’d started, jerking his head up from where he’d been nudging Marces.
Marces remained in a heap on the ground, his head flat, his eyes closed, his flanks quivering as his ribs heaved up and down. The skin rippled over his ribs, which I could see shadows between in the growing light.
‘Thank the spirits above and below. Colete is in danger!’
‘I see it. Just stay back, keep Marces safe.’
There was a bloated Being on Colete’s back, claws sunk into her neck. Fresh blood dripped in slow droplet from each claw, and much more had dried in dark streaks on her silvery mane, clumping the hairs. It balanced on back legs, and a bulbous rear was poised just above Colete’s vulnerable withers.
“Get it up, or this one will become a host for my next clutch. I will not be delayed. Move!”
“You cannot make them keep going like this. I told you that. I will take you. Just let them go,” Londe said in a desperate voice.
‘Good. Keep it distracted.’ I moved around the boulders, maneuvering into a better position.
‘I’m trying. Be careful!’ Londe sounded at the end of his tether.
Steeling myself, knowing what I was about to do would hurt my daughter, I pulled a short blade from my belt. I bumped a soft lump in my tunic, and only then did I remember the small Being I’d been carrying since I left the water. It’d settled, not moving, but its body was still warm.
I peered inside my shirt. Resheating my blade, I quickly slid my hand inside the open neckline and pulled it out. Soft, fuzzy, the flappy ears covered most of its face, but it immediately started to shake. Fear or cold?
“Shh,” I said as quietly as possible. I slid off my cloak, wrapping the little thing up. I saw one ear shift and a small gleam that might be an eye. I held a finger to my lips, nodding, hoping whatever it was would remain silent.
Thankfully, it wasn’t making any noise I could hear. I pulled out my blade again, focusing on what I had to do. My breath quickened, my pulse pattering in my ears. I focused on my hand, lengthening the nails until they resembled harpy claws.
Grif would be proud.
That fucking thing was about to get its head ripped off its bloated body.
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