“We understand,” Omar responded. “And we are deeply grateful for Tob’s assistance.”
An instant later he flinched as the tiny fairy alighted on his shoulder. Tob folded his wings and laid them flat on his bare back. At close range, Ellie now saw that the fairy wore a loincloth the same colors as his mottled skin. She dared only a glance before averting her gaze, for the fairy’s expression was a few shades past belligerent. Tob ignored her entirely.
She wondered how Tob would direct them from Omar’s shoulder if he could not speak. She quickly found out. The fairy unfurled a long spear with a wicked thorn tip and pointed into the trees. Omar flinched again and blinked, doubtless fearing for his eyes. He stepped forward to lead the way, and Ellie fell in behind. It was a quiet hike, both hesitant to speak for fear of offending the truculent fairy.
Following Tob’s guiding spear, they hiked several miles along the side of the mountain, climbing slowly. Then they descended into a vale lush with ferns. Birches, their bark and leaves silvery in the afternoon sunlight, shaded the small clearing. Tob suddenly jumped off Omar’s shoulder and vanished amid the ferns. Omar and Ellie exchanged wide-eyed looks but held their tongues. Was the unicorn near? Did it even now prepare to attack?
And then the sound of deep, labored breathing reached their ears, followed by a low moan. “Are we too late?” Omar whispered. “Could it be injured?”
Tob darted from beneath the ferns at their feet and motioned for them to follow. His manner seemed urgent to Ellie. She would have moved ahead of Omar, but he put out one arm to hold her back, no doubt intending to meet any danger first. Both grateful and annoyed, she allowed his chivalry.
They could see nothing through the ferns, so Tob was obliged to redirect them more than once. But at last Ellie saw a gleam of white hide ahead, and there the unicorn lay beneath the ferns, flat out on its side. At first, hearing another deep moan, she thought it was wounded or dying, but then its entire body strained, one hind leg lifting with the effort. She noted the bulging side, the rippling muscles, and knew in a flash.
The unicorn was giving birth.
The unicorn lifted her head. Great dark eyes regarded Ellie with deep suspicion and a hint of entreaty. “You poor dear,” Ellie murmured, her soothing magic flowing over the laboring beast. “How long has this been going on? I know about birthing, and I carry with me an herbal spray that will help you to relax and concentrate. Will you allow me to help you?”
Sighing out a groan, the unicorn lowered her head and pawed the air with one front hoof. Ellie dropped on her knees at the creature’s side, disregarding the spiraled horn so near, and dug through her pack for the right bottle. Then she sprayed her herbal potion in the air above the mother’s head and continued to spray over the pearly body and legs. To her relief, the unicorn visibly relaxed and at the next contraction was ready to push.
Ellie encouraged and sweet-talked and soothed by turns, oblivious to the passage of time. The incongruity of watching this powerful legendary being suffer the throes of labor brought a sense of unreality to the entire scene. She didn’t notice when Omar came or went. She didn’t notice her damp knees from kneeling in the rain-soaked moss and ferns. She scarcely noticed the fading light.
At last the mother unicorn gave one final great push, and her baby slid into the world. Ellie quickly cleared the tiny nostrils and watched as the newborn began to twitch and struggle. While the mother recovered her strength, the baby flailed, thrashed, flung itself about, and finally scrambled to its feet.
“A little boy,” Ellie told the mother. She had never heard the correct terminology for unicorns. Was the baby a colt or a buck kid? She saw similarities in him to horses and goats. Dainty cloven hooves and a delicate bearded chin—goat. Large, dark eyes, the fuzzy mane and tail—horse. But no ordinary animal shared this creature’s pearlescent hide and ineffable grace, or the tiny nub of horn in the middle of its forehead.
The mother lifted her head and rolled upright, her sharp horn passing uncomfortably close to Ellie’s face. She muttered sweet nothings to her baby and licked his coat clean.
Ellie rose and moved away, giving the little family space. Only then did she realize that twilight was fading into night. Stars dotted the open circle of sky above their fern glade, and brightness over one of the surrounding mountains revealed that the moon would soon rise. Soon the unicorn was on her feet and the baby nursed happily, his tail flicking.
When the mother looked directly at Ellie, she felt gratitude wash over her, as if the beast had spoken. Warmth and happiness filled her heart, and when Omar appeared beside her, she slipped her hand into his.
He gave it a gentle squeeze, but his voice in her ear sounded urgent: “Can they move soon, do you think? We’re right next to the bridle trail and the cross-country course. We need to hide them somewhere. Just minutes ago I saw torches or lanterns about half a mile down the trail, near where we saw the unicorn the other day.”
“The baby isn’t yet strong enough to walk far.”
“Might she allow me to carry it?”
Ellie pondered the idea, but she was too tired to think clearly. Omar’s presence seemed protection enough. “Couldn’t we just stay here?” she asked. “Wouldn’t we be safe enough if the unicorns were to lie down again?”
“Maybe,” Omar said softly, his breath brushing her ear. “You were amazing, may I say.”
Heedless in her post-baby euphoria, Ellie leaned her head on his shoulder. “I didn’t realize how terrified I actually was. I think it’s hitting me now.” He smelled and felt so good that she deliberately blocked out the rest of the world . . . until she realized that the hard lump on his side was a holstered pistol and the gravity of their situation loomed large again. “Where is Tob?” she asked.
Omar stood very still, as if afraid to move. “He disappeared as soon as we got here.”
The unicorn suddenly lifted her head, her rounded ears flicking forward. She was silvery in the starlight, clearly visible against the forest trees. Omar released Ellie’s hand and moved toward the trail. “Can you convince her to lie down?” he asked, his voice low and tense.
“I’ll try.” Quickly, quietly, she approached the mother. “You need to lie down and . . . and try not to glow. Some bad men are hunting you. We came to warn you. If you lie down, they might pass by without seeing you.”
After a moment’s consideration, the unicorn stepped away from her nursing baby, folded her legs, and lowered her body onto the dead leaves beneath a thick patch of ferns. Her baby staggered over to bunt his nose against her, tried to frisk, and fell over. He lay there, his belly full, his eyes drifting shut, while his mother gently licked him. Even as the moon slid above the mountaintop, sending silvery light into the clearing, Ellie was pleasantly surprised to observe that the unicorns were difficult to see. The sleeping baby glowed softly, but his mother surrounded him with her body so that little light escaped.
After arranging a few fronds to conceal them even more, Ellie returned to where she’d last seen Omar. At first she thought he had left them, but then he beckoned and she saw him crouched at the foot of a large tree on a rise overlooking the trail. Ellie crouched beside him, clutching her pack.