The Unicorn Thief

by R. R. Russell

  “Sorry. I wish you could come. I wish we could ride.”

  He wished so many things that couldn’t all be, at least not at the same time.

  Ben grabbed his cape and hurried into his boots. Poor Twig. But even worse was Indy, shut up in the stable. His unicorn stallion didn’t know what to make of this place. He was used to running free on this island, the home of the Earth Land’s only unicorns, the last free herd of unicorns in any world.

  Ben had spent the whole morning indoors—a unicorn rider, buried in books, captivated by the world within those bright yellow ranch house walls. The warmth, the contraptions, the people—people who cared to know where he was, what he was doing. Oh, they tried to give him his space. They weren’t the same with him as they were with each other. But still…

  He was so used to being on his own since his father died. And before that—being with Father had been like being on his own, only without the loneliness. They had known each other so well. They’d worked together as unicorn herders for most of Ben’s life. Sometimes Ben wondered who he was without Father.

  He didn’t know the answer yet, but one thing was for sure—he was a herder and Indy’s rider. Foul weather or not, he belonged in the woods with his unicorn, breathing in the wild, cold fragrance of cedar and rain, not cinnamon French toast, hot coffee, and lemony spray cleaner.

  He hurried outside and jumped down the porch steps and over a row of daffodils bent low with the heaviness of the spring rain. He darted to the stables, where Mr. Murley already had the door open.

  The stable was alive with the distressed wails of the more skittish ponies. Others nickered attempts to make peace with the fearsome Indy, who was locked in the back stall with his daughter, Wonder. All along the stable aisle, the ponies—one for each of the six girls—tossed their heads in agitation. Over the stall wall, Mrs. Murley’s horse, Feather, bared her teeth at Indy. Indy’s horn ripped through the air. Feather backed away, neighing her remorse.

  Sparkler, the alpha mare, neighed threateningly at Indy, a fearless—and foolish—attempt to come to Feather’s defense. Wonder leaped and rammed the stall with her horn. Ben jumped back. The ponies cried wildly as the young unicorn took her father’s side against the stable full of animals she’d grown up with. Ben’s heart thudded in his chest and rain pelted the skylights overhead, adding a fierce, angry rhythm to the stable sounds.

  “Indy,” Ben said firmly, reassuringly, “I’m coming. Stand down now, the both of you.”

  Indy’s low growl-snort answered him. A smaller whirl of white mane swished next to Indy’s majestic head. The long, gleaming spiral of Indy’s horn with its midnight-blue stripe streaked back and forth above the stable walls in a pantomime of battle. Ben knew how well-trained and disciplined his unicorn actually was. He was merely mimicking fighting his way out. He was powerful enough to thrust his horn right through the stall walls until they were nothing but a pile of splinters.

  Indy wouldn’t do it, especially with Ben there. But would Wonder? Sparkler reared, and again Wonder rammed the stall. There was a slam-crack. Wonder was young, impulsive, not as disciplined as Indy, and her rider wasn’t here. Rain Cloud called for Sparkler to lay off, and Indy gave Wonder a poke with his horn, but his heart wasn’t in it. He shot Ben a defiant glare as if to say, I won’t break out of here, and I won’t charge at that impertinent pony, but if Wonder wants to do it, why should I stop her?

  “Ben?” Mr. Murley couldn’t quite hide the tremor in his voice.

  “Get Twig, Mr. M. Quick.”

  Wonder backed up. She bent her knees. Ben knew that look. She wasn’t going to charge this time; she was going to jump. Right out of her stall and into Sparkler’s. The pony wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “Wonder!” Ben said firmly.

  The feet came down, still in her own stall. Wonder hadn’t jumped quite high enough. But was it just because Ben had distracted her? Could she really jump out of the stall? She never had before, but she seemed to amaze them with some new feat almost every day.

  Ben hurried to open Sparkler’s stall. The frightened pony rushed out. Before he could get hold of her to take her outside, there was a flash of white mane and flying hooves. Ben jumped back and plastered himself against the stalls at the side of the aisle.

  “Stop right there!”

  Hooves skidded on the dirt floor of the aisle, sending stray bits of wood shavings flying.

  Twig was there, soaking wet, jacketless, and in stocking feet. She grasped Sparkler’s halter in one hand and held her other palm out, the picture of calm determination and authority. “Just what do you think you’re doing, Wonder?”

  Wonder dipped her head and neighed her appeal to her rider. Mrs. Murley ran in and took Sparkler from Twig. Mr. Murley was right behind her.

  Twig caught a handful of Wonder’s mane, then slipped her arms around her neck.

  Ben let out a breath of relief and strode to the stall the two unicorns shared. Though they were solidly built, the walls rumbled with Indy’s angry movements.

  “There, now. I’m here.”

  Indy pawed the ground and fixed Ben with a fierce stare. And Ben saw, not anger anymore, but fear and yearning, barely contained by the stallion’s dignity. Mr. Murley stayed back a few paces behind Ben in the aisle, quiet and still, just in case Ben needed him.

  “I’ll get this troublemaker out of here.” Mrs. Murley snapped a lead on Sparkler’s halter and took her outside.

  As Ben opened the stall door, Indy gave the air one last slash with his horn, just to show Ben he really meant it.

  Behind him, Ben sensed Mr. Murley jolt and move closer.

  “It’s okay,” Ben told his uncle before he could jump in front of him and upset Indy all over again. “Indy, stand down.”

  Indy bowed his head, though he sent Ben a sideways look of contempt with his eyes, the dark, liquid silver color of all unicorns. Ben stroked Indy’s neck. “It’s just the rain, Indy-boy. I know it sounds strange.”

  The island wind attacked the glass with a heavier pelting, trying to batter its way in. Or to drive Indy out, where he belonged. Indy neighed, ears pinned back.

  “Ah, Indy. You’re right. I’m sorry. Your island wants you, and you want your island.” Ben stroked Indy’s neck, and Wonder jumped in a circle around Twig, showing her own younger, fresher brand of impatience. “You too, Wonder. Outside with both of you. Sparkler can come back in and calm down where she feels more comfortable.”

  The ponies nickered their agreement, and Wonder nuzzled Ben’s side.

  Mr. Murley glanced at the skylights, at the downpour pounding the glass.

  “They’ll be all right,” Twig said. “They can handle a little rain.”

  Mr. Murley did what he could to help turn the unicorns out. Which mostly meant staying out of their way and opening the paddock gates.

  Twig ran back to the house to get her jacket and to get Mandy to help her calm Sparkler. Ben had a little talk with Indy about staying in the pasture and making sure Wonder did too. Indy and Wonder were expert jumpers, a combination of natural ability and the training Ben and Twig had put them through. They could leap the fence and disappear into the woods if they wanted to. But both creatures were loyal to their riders, and Wonder would follow Indy’s lead.

  The unicorns leaped in the rain. They kicked up mud and turf, delighting in the fresh, wet air. Mr. Murley stood at the pasture gate, watching them. David Murley was the great-grand nephew of Edward Murley, an early settler in Washington state, and the first Earth Lander to settle—or try to settle—on Lonehorn Island. Edward Murley was Ben’s great-great-grandfather.

  Edward’s sons had disappeared into Terracornus through the island’s hidden passage. As far as Ben knew, they were the first Earth Landers to settle in Terracornus in hundreds of years. The original unicorn herders had taken the last, endangered unicorns from the Earth Land to the new
ly discovered, empty world they named Terracornus. They had to protect the magnificent creatures from people who hunted them for their supposedly magical horns.

  Much later, when Terracornus had become dangerous, no longer the sanctuary it once was, a few unicorns had been let back into the Earth Land through the island’s passage. Ben’s great-grandfather, Elijah Murley, had taken on the duty of keeping watch over Lonehorn Island’s small herd—the last free herd in any world.

  “Indy cannot stay here, Mr. M.” As much as he liked him, Ben didn’t feel right calling a man he’d just met uncle, and just plain David seemed disrespectful, so he’d adopted Janessa’s name for him. “Indy cannot handle being fenced in.”

  Mr. Murley nodded at the woods surrounding the ranch. Cedars and firs, thick ferns and mosses growing in their shadows. Tangles of brambles taking over any spot where the sun dared to peek through.

  “It’s cold and wet out there, Ben. When it doesn’t rain, there’s the fog. We’ve had some sunny days, but summer’s still a long way off.”

  “But it’s still home.” Not the ranch. Not Terracornus. Not anymore. He belonged in Lonehorn Island’s misty woods with the herd his father had raised him to protect. “It stays dry in our hollow, mostly.”

  “What about the herd? Is Indy safe out there with them?”

  As if in answer, the distant call of a unicorn sounded. Plaintive, searching. Possibly injured.

  The herd would be looking for a new leader now that Dagger was dead. It was Ben’s job to make sure they ended up with a better one.

  Yesterday, he and Twig had planted trails of apples and carrots in the woods, leading to bins of feed. Normally, he wouldn’t feed wild animals. It was best for them to graze naturally, and there was plenty for them to eat now that spring was here. But with Dagger, these unicorns had begun to hunt, killing rabbits and raccoons. They’d become more predatory the more they killed. He wanted to make sure they were too full of oats to continue down that deadly path—and that they were as content as possible when he and Twig began to approach them.

  “I’m not sure. Some of them are hurt, and we might be able to help. It’s time to think about the unicorns and what they need.”

  Mr. Murley nodded thoughtfully. “But what about you, Ben? What do you need?”

  Ben opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  “How would you like a room of your own? I could add one, on the back side of the house.”

  A room of his own! Ben had watched the ranch being built. He’d spent countless hours staring at the place from the cover of the brush at the edge of the clearing, wondering what it was like inside. The thought of living here permanently…

  He didn’t want to go back to Terracornus. He wouldn’t, no matter how many messages Merrill sent. But staying at the ranch would make the Murleys guardians of sorts. They’d feel even more responsible for him.

  And Ben had learned something about this world—the Earth Land—that he’d never understood before. They expected different things—lesser things—from their youth. Above all they wanted them to be safe, where above all Ben’s father, Darian, had wanted him to be honorable and brave.

  Ben twisted a fold of his cape in his hand. Rain washed over his red-cold knuckles. His father’s violent death gave Ben respect for the values of this world. So did the depth of the Murleys’ love for each one of their girls. But he didn’t know how to live like that. How to be Ben like that.

  “I need to be out there, with the herd. I thank you for everything, Mr. M, but I just cannot stay.”

  Sadness, then acceptance glimmered in Mr. Murley’s eyes.

  “Twig’s a herder now too. She—”

  Already Mr. Murley was shaking his head. “Twig has to stay here. She’s our responsibility. As long as she gets her schoolwork and her chores done, she can help you. But this is her home right now.”

  “I understand,” Ben said.

  But he didn’t like it, not one bit. She was a herder at heart, just like him; he knew it. And soon her father would come back from that war he was fighting in a far-off desert land. He’d take her home with him, away from the Murleys. Ben understood that the Murleys wanted this time with her, but shouldn’t she be allowed to spend what little time she had left on Lonehorn Island leaping through the mist, being a herder and Wonder’s rider?

  Twig was right. It wasn’t fair. She’d never fully know the life of a herder. The life she was meant for.

  Chapter 4

  Twig closed her history book and put her paper in the pile for Mrs. Murley to check. The ranch was still soggy outside from yesterday’s rain, but the downpour had ended. She hurried outside, headed for the paddocks. She’d say hello to her pony, Rain Cloud, first. He was turned out in the paddock closest to the stable, with the other ponies and Feather. Then she’d go to Wonder, in the far paddock with Indy. Ben had been outside since dawn, keeping a close eye on the unicorns, making sure there wasn’t any more trouble between them and the ponies.

  Fresh air filled her lungs, and mist dampened her cheeks. She contemplated which to do next—archery practice, ride Wonder, ride Rain Cloud…but the sight on the front lawn stopped her short. Mr. Murley and Ben were wrestling with a tangle of poles and a mass of blue fabric. A tent.

  “Okay,” Mr. Murley said. “Go!”

  Tent poles in their hands, both of them stepped back and pushed up. The tent sprang to life. Ben let go, and the tent pulled one of the stakes free of the earth and teetered off the ground.

  Twig jogged over. “What are you guys doing?”

  Mr. Murley rubbed his muddy palms on his jeans. “I think we worked out a compromise, Twig.”

  “About where I’m going to live,” Ben said.

  Ben had reluctantly taken Mr. Murley to see the shelter he lived in, little more than a bunch of evergreen branches leaned against a tree in the hollow, a small, hidden clearing under a canopy of trees. Mr. Murley had not been impressed.

  Ben picked up the mallet and gave the stake another whack. He scrambled into the tent as though he couldn’t wait a moment longer. He paced around inside the tent, then crossed his arms and gave a satisfied nod, trying to regain his characteristic calm air. Lately Twig wondered if he was as surprised as she was by the different side of himself these new discoveries brought out—amazed, intrigued, almost exuberant.

  “Look!” He worked the zipper around the tent door, back and forth.

  Twig ducked inside the tent with him.

  “Mr. M says I can sleep in here,” Ben said.

  “In the yard?”

  “No, in the hollow. In my usual spot. Just in this tent.”

  From the other side of the tent wall, Mr. Murley said, “I don’t know if you can set it up yourself, though. It really does take two. Maybe I should go into town and pick up a smaller one.”

  Ben exited the tent. “Twig can help me.”

  “Of course,” Mr. Murley said. But he looked nervous.

  “I wouldn’t want the rest of you coming out there into the woods, upsetting the herd. But Twig can ride Wonder out there with me and help me with the tent.”

  “And help him get things going with the herd,” she said hopefully.

  Mr. Murley frowned. “What are you two getting at?”

  “Can she not stay with me, just for a few nights?”

  Twig’s heart fluttered at the thought of spending the night in the hollow, with just a wall of vinyl between her and her unicorn. Like a real herder.

  “Mrs. Murley and I will have to discuss it.”

  Twig threw her arms around Mr. Murley. Mrs. Murley would say yes. She had to.

  ***

  Casey helped Twig into the big, framed backpack. It was filled with clothes and food, and a sleeping bag was strapped to the top. She hadn’t been camping since before Mom and Daddy split up, when she was just a kindergartner. But the tent and ot
her supplies were secured on Ben’s and Indy’s backs, and they knew what to do. The wooded depths of Lonehorn Island had been their home for years.

  Wonder bounced around the pasture. She had never spent the night in the woods either—not to sleep anyway. Twig had sneaked out with her many nights to train for battle against Dagger and the herd, but that was different.

  Wonder had been born in the ranch’s stable. A little white moonbeam of hope entering the world on a night of sadness and terror. A night that had taken both Wonder’s mother, Wind Catcher, and Ben’s father, Darian. Dagger had killed them in a frenzy over Indy, his rival, and also over the herders standing between him and his prey—the animals of Island Ranch.

  The girls of Island Ranch stood solemnly, all in a row.

  “We have something for you, Ben. Twig already gave you a Bible, so…” Taylor gestured for Janessa, and she stepped forward and pulled a book out from behind her back.

  A wonderfully fat book filled with diagrams of tools and machines. He opened it, and his eyes got big and hungry. He smiled at the girls. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be back for chores on Monday morning,” Twig promised.

  Taylor took Casey’s hand in hers. “We’ll take care of Rain Cloud.”

  Casey broke away and threw her arms around Twig.

  “It’s just for two nights,” Twig said.

  Casey looked into Twig’s eyes with an expression Twig had seen before, one that pierced her heart every time. “Come back, Twig.”

  “I will,” Twig promised, just like last time.

  One day, while they were grooming their ponies side by side, Casey had told Twig her mom had promised to come back, but she never did. That was how she ended up here.

  The familiar route to the hollow felt different this time. The ride was jerkier, with the unicorns carrying such awkward burdens. It was strange to travel this path in the daylight, without sneaking, without fear of getting caught. But then, why did she have a knot in her gut?

  Twig had daydreamed about being a herder like Ben, keeping the unicorns of Lonehorn Island safe from discovery and from each other. Now she had her chance. What if she couldn’t do it? What if Ben realized she wasn’t really who he’d thought she could be? Maybe she shouldn’t be trying to do this at all. Soon she’d have to leave and go back to her dad and her stepfamily. Would she still be the new Twig then? Away from Wonder? Away from the island, where everything had changed?