"Oh dear! She certainly did." Aunt Phil leaned forward and inspected the area. There was a big bald spot next to his tail. "She didn't break the skin, though, just nipped off some of your fur."
Mr. Sylvan sniffed. "It's not fur, it's hair. You of all people should know that."
"Forgive me," Aunt Phil said, hiding a smile. "That was a poor choice of words. Would you like some salve for it?"
Mr. Sylvan sniffed again as he took his seat with great dignity. "No, thank you." He turned the subject away from his hindquarters. "When she's not attacking me, stealing my things, or chasing me off, she's sleeping."
Aunt Phil shook her head gravely. "You are correct, Mr. Sylvan. This is all most unusual. I am glad you called us."
Nate didn't say anything. All in all, it didn't sound like a big deal to him. So the unicorn was hungry and cranky—that happened to everyone once in a while. It certainly didn't seem more important than chasing after Obediah.
"It is too late to start out for the pasture this afternoon," Aunt Phil said. "I'm afraid we'll have to stay here for the night and start first thing in the morning."
"I'd be honored to have you, ma'am." Mr. Sylvan gave a crisp little bow. "I shall go see what dinner my humble cupboards can offer up for us."
Chapter Six
IN SPITE OF NATE'S MISGIVINGS, they spent a pleasant evening in the faun's cottage. They dined on thick slabs of cheese on even thicker slices of homemade bread that they roasted over the fire using the long toasting forks. Nate had never made his own dinner before and found he quite liked it, even if it was a little crispy around the edges and the hot cheese burned the roof of his mouth.
Greasle managed to get melted cheese in her hair, so after dinner, Nate spent half an hour trying to pick it all out. Just as he finished, Aunt Phil announced it was time for bed.
While Mr. Sylvan cleared a space for them on the floor, Nate went to peer out the darkened windows. Did carrier pigeons fly at night? he wondered. Would they be able to find them here in the forest? He pressed his nose up against the thick glass, then jumped back in surprise. It was cold. Icy cold. He peered more closely. A faint dusting of ice crystals coated the window. "It's the first frost tonight," he said.
Aunt Phil straightened up from where she'd been laying out Mr. Sylvan's extra blankets. Luckily the unicorn hadn't nicked those. "That can't be right. It's been much too warm." She came over to the window, but by the time she got there, the frost had melted.
She ran her finger along the glass. "See? No frost. You probably just saw a bit of fog from your breath."
"I know the difference between fog and frost," Nate told her.
"But, Nate," she said, her voice patient, "the temperature hasn't been low enough for frost to appear. Besides, it
makes no sense for frost to appear on one window but not the others. It's easy to make mistakes when we're tired."
"I'm not tired," Nate mumbled, but Aunt Phil ignored him.
"Come along, now. We need to get some sleep. We've an early start tomorrow."
Nate sat down and took off his boots, then his jacket. He didn't like having to sleep in his shirt, but they hadn't brought nightclothes. They'd only been planning for a day trip.
As Nate settled himself on the blanket, Greasle crawled over and curled up near his shoulder. "I don'ts likes this place," she whispered.
"Why not?" Nate asked, surprised. Of all the places he had been in the past few weeks, this one wasn't bad.
Greasle shrugged. "Too quiet. No happy sounds, like the buzz of a plane or the chug of an engine." Greasle stopped talking and cocked her left ear. "And what is that chirping sound, anyways?"
Nate held perfectly still and listened. "Crickets," he said after a moment. "Those are crickets."
Greasle shuddered. "Well, I don't like them nasty crickets."
Nate sometimes forgot that Greasle had spent her entire life burrowed inside tight, cramped engines. Things like the forest and houses were entirely foreign to her.
"It's okay. You'll be fine," Nate assured her. To cheer her up, he whispered, "Hey, look at Cornelius."
She looked over at the dodo, then squeaked in fright. "What happened to his head?"
Nate laughed softly. "That's just how he sleeps, with his head tucked under his wing like that. Doesn't it look silly? I thought it would make you laugh."
"Nothing funny about missing heads," she grumbled, then settled herself firmly in the crook of Nate's neck.
As he stared at the darkening room around them, his thoughts returned to Obediah, like a tongue probing the space where a tooth is missing. As soon as they took care of this unicorn, he had to think of a way to talk Aunt Phil into going after their black sheep of a cousin. They couldn't just wait indefinitely for him to make his next move.
***
The next morning, they were up with the dawn and breakfasted on soft-boiled eggs, toast, and tea. Nate was glad to hear that Cornelius would remain behind in the cottage. The dodo wasn't built for travel.
The morning was crisp, but there was no frost on the ground as Nate had feared. The sun was watery and thin, though, and its warmth barely reached down between the trees to the forest floor. They crossed a gurgling brook, where the water splashed cheerfully over moss-covered rocks. Halfway across the old stone bridge, Nate felt as if someone was watching him. His thoughts flew immediately to stories of trolls who live under bridges. He looked down at the planks of wood under his feet and tried to peer between them, but there was nothing he could see. Once they had crossed, he hung back a moment to peek beneath the bridge.
There was nothing there.
Even so, a strange chill danced across his shoulders, as if winter were drawing near. The feeling spooked him and he hurried to catch up with the others.
The trail wound upward between towering trees, then past a series of rocky ravines. The path was narrow, and looking down made Nate dizzy. He was glad when they reached the top and the terrain flattened out again. A wide, sunny meadow stretched out for nearly as far as the eye could see. Off to the right was a thick copse of trees. Once again, Nate felt he was being watched. Just as he turned to Aunt Phil to ask her if she noticed anything, he felt a faint rumbling beneath his feet.
The noise grew louder. Nate realized it was coming from
the woods. He whirled around in time to see a large white animal charge out of the trees.
It seemed easily as big as a horse, its eyes wide with fury and its teeth bared in challenge. The enormous cloven hooves tore up the ground as the unicorn thundered toward them, its long horn pointing straight at them like a spear.
Chapter Seven
GREASLE SCREAMED and Nate felt the icy-hot taste of fear on the back of his tongue.
"Mr. Sylvan!" Aunt Phil called out crisply.
The faun darted in front of them and Nate remembered his claim that the unicorn tolerated fauns better than people. He also remembered Mr. Sylvan's claim that Luminessa had been more aggressive lately.
And she was still barreling toward them.
The faun crouched low, pushed up his sleeves, and flexed his hands. Just as Nate realized Mr. Sylvan was going to try to wrestle the unicorn to a halt, the unicorn tilted her head slightly and checked her stride. She churned to a stop two feet in front of them. Before anyone could react, she knelt and lay her sharp horn on the ground at Greasle's feet.
For a long moment, no one moved, except Greasle, who was trembling with fear. "Helps?" she whispered.
Aunt Phil and Mr. Sylvan exchanged a glance. "Fascinating," Aunt Phil murmured.
Mr. Sylvan scratched his head. "I thought your little creature was some sort of monkey, not a fair maiden."
"She's a gremlin, actually, but also, apparently, a fair maid. At least as far as the unicorn is concerned. Which will make everything much easier."
"Um, could we talk about this later and help Greasle out, here?" Nate asked.
"We don't need to, Nate. The unicorn has laid her horn at Greasle's feet, a sign
that she has agreed to be tamed for Greasle's sake."
"Tamed?"
"Unicorns will sometimes submit willingly to young maidens. Which," she added dryly, "it appears your gremlin is."
"You mean it won't eats me?" Greasle squeaked.
"No," Aunt Phil said. "In fact, she wants you to give her permission to rise."
At that exact moment, the unicorn's long tongue shot out and licked the gremlin in one long slurp from her ankles to the tips of her pointed ears. "Yee-uck!" Greasle said, wiping at her face. "You can gets up, you big oaf."
Gracefully, the unicorn rose to her feet. Now that Nate wasn't in fear for his life, he could see that the unicorn was actually a little smaller than a horse, about the size of a large stag. Her coat was pure white, like the foam on top of the waves. Her mane and tail were also white, but there were hints of pale gray on her muzzle and feet, as if she had waded through a pool of silver and dipped her nose to drink. She smelled faintly of ripening apples.
Aunt Phil leaned forward and blew into the unicorn's nostrils. The unicorn whuffled and shook her head.
"Greetings, Luminessa, daughter of Fleetfoot and Won - der. It has been too long since we've exchanged breath." Still holding the unicorn's gaze with her own, Aunt Phil slowly put her hand out and laid it on the unicorn's horn. "As a male, you can never do this unless there is a maiden nearby to tame her," she told Nate in a low voice.
The unicorn snorted and whoofed. Aunt Phil nodded, as if she understood perfectly. "I'd like you to meet my nephew, Nathaniel Fludd. He's the current beastologist-in-training." To Nate she said, "Here. Come blow in her face so she can smell you, then put your hand on her horn right beneath mine."
Nate hesitated. It seemed kind of rude to just go up and blow in someone's face. Seeing him hang back, Aunt Phil said, "Don't worry. Not only is it how they greet one another, it's how they identify us. Once you've exchanged breath with a unicorn, the chances are very high it will never attack you unprovoked."
"Just don't let her lick you," Greasle muttered darkly.
Nate stepped forward, tilted his head a bit so that he was closer to the unicorn's nostrils, then huffed out a soft puff of breath. Next, he placed his hand on the horn, surprised at how warm and smooth it was.
This time when Luminessa made the snorting and whuffling sounds, he felt them, a rumbling deep in his chest, as if he himself were speaking words without actually moving his mouth. Much to his shock, he could feel what the words were as they formed in his chest.
He is but a colt, the unicorn was saying.
"We all have to start sometime," Aunt Phil said. "Besides, you are barely older than a colt yourself."
The unicorn snorted again. In unicorn years, which are much different from your human years.
"True enough," Aunt Phil said.
"What are unicorn years?" Nate asked.
"For every human year that passes, unicorns only age six months. They often live well into their hundreds, which is more than two hundred years of age in human years."
Nate felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down.
"Does gremlins have gremlin years?" Greasle whispered.
"I don't know," Nate told her. Before he could ask, Aunt Phil spoke to the unicorn again. "Mr. Sylvan says you've been feeling poorly. I thought you should have an examination."
Hmm, rumbled deep in Nate's chest. Certainly feel different. Strange, even. I think I would like an examination, please. She stopped talking and cocked her head to the side, her nostrils quivering. Her head swung back in Greasle's direction. Then she reached out with her long pink tongue and licked the gremlin from toe to head again.
Greasle squealed, and the unicorn gave a small hum of pleasure. Rich and salty, Nate felt deep in his chest.
"Horse spit," Greasle said disgustedly, wiping her face with her hand.
"Unicorn saliva, to be precise," Aunt Phil said absent-mindedly. She looked from Luminessa back to Greasle, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"What?" Nate asked.
"I'm wondering if her appetite for Greasle is a symptom of her illness. Like a dog who eats grass to soothe his stomach, or how sometimes people eat dirt to add iron or minerals to their diet."
Nate looked from Greasle to the unicorn. "Do you think Luminessa is low on grease? Or oil?"
"It's a possibility."
The unicorn swished her tufted tail and began heading back toward the trees. "We'll be back shortly," Aunt Phil told Mr. Sylvan. "Greasle, would you mind coming with us? Your presence will make everything easier."
"Hmph," Greasle grumbled. "If she promises to stop sliming me."
"Nonsense," Aunt Phil said. "This is the cleanest you've been in weeks."
Greasle opened her mouth to disagree, but Nate picked her up and brought her close. "Don't argue! Maybe this will help convince her to let me keep you."
Greasle's face brightened. "You thinks so?"
Nate shrugged. "She seems pretty happy with your effect on the unicorn."
Greasle sighed. "Okay, then."
The unicorn led them deep into a tangle of woods, where the branches were thick and nearly impenetrable in some places. Nate could hear the bubbling of a small brook nearby. A large, jagged rock rose up in front of them, taller than a house. As the unicorn disappeared behind it, Nate scrambled after her, then stopped and sucked in his breath at the scene before him.
A small grassy area was covered with delicate branches. They had become interwoven as they'd grown and now formed a small bower, a little cave. The bower backed up to a sheer drop on either side. The only way in or out was the way they had come. Crowded against the back of the small space was a pile of rags: a tablecloth, a pair of tea towels, pillow fluff, and, Nate thought, a small patch of goat hide.
"This will be perfect," Aunt Phil said, kneeling on the ground. Nate knelt beside her while the unicorn nimbly lowered herself into the small nest she'd built.
"Greasle, dear, I'll need you to sit right here by her head where she can see you and smell you," Aunt Phil directed.
Greasle's eyes widened at the word dear, and Nate gave her an encouraging nod. Surely that could only be a good sign.
Aunt Phil pulled her medical bag closer. "If you'd lie on your right side, please," she instructed the unicorn. She opened her bag and rummaged around inside until she produced a thermometer. A rather large thermometer, Nate realized.
"Open wide," she said.
Luminessa delicately pulled back her lips. "This goes under your tongue," Aunt Phil said, "but no matter what you do, don't bite down on it."
The unicorn rested her teeth gingerly on the glass of the thermometer, her eyes nearly crossing as she looked at it.
"Pet her," Aunt Phil told the gremlin. "It will help her keep calm."
Greasle's eyes grew wide with fear.
"I can pet her," Nate offered, scooting forward.
"No. You're not a maiden, Nate. She'll tolerate your presence now that she knows your breath, but only a maiden is able to calm her."
Greasle rolled her eyes. "The big baby," she muttered. Tentatively, she reached toward the unicorn. She lifted one tiny finger and cautiously ran it down the side of the unicorn's neck. The skin there shimmied and rippled, and the unicorn visibly relaxed.
"Excellent!" Aunt Phil said, and Greasle's cheeks grew pink with pleasure.
Aunt Phil pulled the thermometer out of Luminessa's mouth, and Nate nearly laughed as the unicorn's lips twitched and wiggled. "Let me show you how to read this. See these lines, and the numbers next to them? And that thick silver line in the middle? Where does it stop?"
"One hundred and ten?"
"Exactly. One hundred and ten. A horse's normal temperature runs between ninety-nine and one hundred and two. A unicorn's is slightly higher, in the area of one hundred and five to one hundred and six. This is elevated, even for a unicorn."
"So she has a fever?"
"Yes." Aunt Phil's face was shadowed with worry as she cleaned off the thermometer and r
eturned it to her pack. "Stick out your tongue, please."
Luminessa did as she was told. Aunt Phil ran her fingers along the creature's gums and checked the color of her tongue. "A little darker than normal, I think." She frowned in concern. "Hoof, please," she said cheerfully, but Nate wasn't fooled. He didn't think the unicorn was, either.
Luminessa lifted one dainty hoof. Aunt Phil gently prodded it. "A tiny bit of swelling, I see." She placed the unicorn's foot back on the grass, then turned to her bag.
The unicorn snorted and whuffled. Still rummaging through her things, Aunt Phil said, "See what she's trying to say, Nate."
"Me?" he squeaked.
"Yes, you."
Eyeing the sharp horn, Nate swallowed nervously, then scooted closer. He glanced at Greasle. "Keep petting her," he said.
The gremlin redoubled her petting efforts.
Nate slowly put his hand on Luminessa's smooth horn. "Um, could you repeat that, please?"
Does she know what is wrong?
Nate could hear a note of alarm in the unicorn's voice. "She's wondering if you know what's wrong with her," he told Aunt Phil.
"I will in just one more minute," Aunt Phil said. "Aha, there it is," she said, and pulled a long stethoscope from her bag. She first positioned the two earpieces, then placed the round, flat disk on the unicorn's chest. "Hmmm," she muttered, still frowning. She moved the disk to a new location. "Hmmm." She pursed her lips and motioned Nate closer. "Here." She snapped the stethoscope in place on his ears. "Tell me what you hear."
She placed the disk back on Luminessa's chest. Nate listened carefully. And then he heard it. A faint thu-bump,
thu-bump. "It's her heartbeat!" he said. If there was something wrong with her heart, that could be serious.
"Very good. Now listen more closely. Hold your own breath if you have to."
Nate did as he was told. Thu-bump-bump. Thu-bump-bump. He looked at Aunt Phil, puzzled. "It's almost as if there are two hearts beating."
The Unicorn's Tale Page 3