The Unicorn Thief (3 page)

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 other 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?

Chapter 5

Ben looked at his hollow, filled up with the bright blue tent. It was amazing, all the things people in the Earth Land had made. But now that he'd brought a piece of that world here, it just didn't feel right. He shut his eyes, overcome with longing for a time when the only things that could really fill this hollow were a crackling fire and the sound of his father's voice, rising and falling with the stories he loved to tell.

Casey would've loved Darian. He had lots of harrowing stories about the Death Swamp. Who would have thought he'd survive three trips through that swamp, only to die here, on his beloved, beautiful island—attacked by the unicorn he'd once loved?

“Ben? Are you okay?”

He blinked at Twig. “Sure.”

She grabbed one of their bags, unzipped it, and began to paw through the frozen, icelike plastic things and colorful containers. “Mrs. Murley packed us turkey salad sandwiches. And…” She grinned big and whipped out a long, flat container. “Peanut butter cookies with chocolate chips! Just wait till you try them.”

They ate a quick lunch, and Ben had to agree the cookies were amazing—chewy with a pleasing crunch of sprinkled sugar on top. Then it was time to get to work with the herd.

Ben brushed the crumbs off his hands and fumbled with the lid to the cookie container. “The first thing is to locate them all. Some are injured, so they might be scattered. We'll be careful to keep our distance. If they seem hostile, it's important that we avoid a fight.” He pressed harder on the lid. Every time he got one side down, the other popped up.

Twig held out her hand for it, and he turned it over before he could start a fight with a piece of plastic and pulverize what was left of the cookies.

“But we can't run, either.”

“Right. We cannot show weakness.” He fought the heat in his cheeks. He might not run from a charging enemy, but that little plastic box had just won his surrender. “We have a couple of options, depending on how they react. We can try to help and tame the injured—”

“That'll be tricky. The ones who are hurt are probably the ones who were more eager to attack us.”

So much for hoping she wouldn't realize that. “True,” he said. “And then we'd have to reintroduce them to the herd and hope the herd sees us as friends because they do. The other option is to try to establish Indy as the leader of the herd. He's familiar to all of them, but they accepted him and Wind Catcher as outsiders. They saw me and my father and our unicorns as a herd of our own. Could be, with Dagger gone, if they're looking for a leader and Indy steps into the role, they'll follow him. At least temporarily.”

“They might challenge him.”

Ben nodded. “I would be surprised if none of them did.”

***

A whistle sounded through the trees, similar to the one Ben used to call Emmie, his letter pigeon. On top of the tent, the emerald pigeon stirred and cooed.

“Stay there, Emmie,” Ben said. Indy, then Wonder, nickered and pricked their ears in anticipation. “It's Merrill,” Ben told Twig. He whistled back to Merrill.

Moments later, the branches parted and the old herder ducked in. “I wasn't sure I'd find you here, Ben-boy.” Merrill raised his eyebrows at the tent. “I see our Twig-girl is here too.”

“Just for a few days,” Twig said. Merrill smiled, but he looked distracted and concerned. Twig glanced at Ben, at his crossed arms and his stiff posture. “What's the matter, Merrill?”

“It's the unicorn thief. He's struck again, and this time it's—”

“What unicorn thief?” Twig said. She sent Ben a sidelong glare. “Nobody told me about a unicorn thief.”

“Someone's been stealing unicorns in Westland.” Ben shifted restlessly. “Someone who's very, very good at it.”

“But I thought all the unicorns in Westland belonged to the queen.”

Merrill nodded solemnly. “Like Ben said, whoever it is, they're very good, and they're very bold. Stealing from the queen herself, and not just indirectly. Her own favorite mare was stolen right out of the castle stable just last week.”

“Night Spark? Who would do that? Who would dare?”

“No one knows. And no one knows what he's doing with them.”

“No one has any idea?” Twig said.

“Lots of people have ideas.” Merrill rubbed the scar on his stubbly chin. “Ideas that don't bode well for the missing unicorns. Or for Terracornians.” Merrill leaned back against a tree. “One rumor is that Eastland is behind the thefts. Though we're under a truce now, the wars have taken their toll. The unicorns' numbers are dwindling. Dangerously low. Likely they're stealing the best mounts for their own army and to breed new stock. But this particular theft suggests more.”

“What do you mean, more?” Twig asked.

“War,” Ben said. “Taking the queen's own unicorn—it's the ultimate insult.”

Merrill nodded solemnly. “A blatant provocation.”

Ben stared into the trees, deep in thought, eyes full of sadness.

Twig turned to Merrill. “I saw your note to Ben, about going to the queen. He won't tell me what it means. Does this have something to do with that? This unicorn thief? Starting a new war with Eastland?”

“Ahhh.” Merrill looked surprised. “Yes, little one. I'm afraid it does.”

“What!” Ben jerked to attention.

Merrill fixed Ben with a penetrating gaze. “What if Twig is right?”

He shook his head sharply. “It doesn't matter.”

“It doesn't matter?” Twig said.

“This is my world now. This herd is my responsibility. Not Westland. There are no herders, no free unicorns allowed in Westland anymore, remember?”

“Your father—” Merrill began.

“My father left Westland, and for good reason. And this is what he left me—the unicorns of Lonehorn Island.”

Chapter 6

In his shelter, Ben awoke. The hollow was quiet, but the woods surrounding it were not. Merrill had gone back to Terracornus to look after Marble, the injured unicorn he was secretly caring for, and Ben and Twig were alone.

He pushed the sleeping bag back and grabbed his weapons, then pulled the boughs that formed the door of his shelter aside. A thick, misty morning seeped through the low-hanging branches of the hollow. So did sounds that made Ben's heart pound. Calls not nearly far enough away.

Unicorns.

But where was the low, warning answer from Indy? The neigh alerting his rider or young Wonder that a potential enemy was approaching? Ben glanced at the unicorns, still curled on their sides next to each other—they were not just in their usual lighter sleep, sitting with their legs bent under them, ready to rise in a blink, but in the truly deep sleep that only overtook them for a couple of hours each night. Usually in the deepest, darkest of the night. Not now, at sunrise!

It was unheard of for any unicorn. Ben grabbed Indy's tack and clambered out of his shelter.

Twig fell out of the tent, sword in hand. “You heard it too?”

Ben nodded. “They're headed this way.”

Twig reached back inside the tent for her bow and quiver, then Wonder's tack.

“Why are they still sleeping?” Twig said. “We've got to wake them up.”

Ben approached Indy carefully. He didn't want to startle him and get himself hurt. “Indy-boy. Let's get up now. Come on, we've got work to do.”

Twig talked to Wonder, but neither animal stirred.

Ben rubbed Indy's neck. “Wake up, boy.” The stallion didn't even open his eyes.

Outside the hollow, the unicorn calls grew louder. Ben rubbed Indy again, more briskly. Indy's eyelids lifted. His quicksilver eyes had a groggy, almost milky look.

“They must be sick.” Twig rubbed Wonder's neck the same way and got no response.

Whatever the cause, their unicorns were dead asleep. And they could all be dead in moments if the herders didn't handle this right. The calls grew louder, dangerously close.

“Ben! What do we do? We can't just wait for them.”

“We go out there. We defend the hollow.” Ben slung his quiver over his shoulder and took up his bow.

“Without them?” Twig looked desperately at the sleeping unicorns.

“We have no choice.”

Twig parted the branches, and Ben ducked out first, before she could. They stood there side by side in the morning mist, bows in hand, ready to aim and shoot. If only they could see their targets.

Ben's arm ached with tension. It seemed like ages before he spotted the ghostly white forms gliding through the fog.

The long, sharp horn of a majestic unicorn glittered in the mist. A pink scar marred its creamy coat—a wound inflicted by Ben. Two more horns appeared, bobbing in the dappled light and cutting through the fog. Three unicorns. They were outnumbered.

But instead of neighing a threat, the creatures called out softly, curiously. Ben had heard nothing but sounds of hunger, of vicious eagerness, of battle, and of pain from them for so long. “Don't shoot,” he whispered to Twig. “Not yet.”

“What do they want?”

“I'm not sure.”

Should they try to drive them away from the hollow, or was it time to welcome them as friends? A surge of panic flowed through the already pounding pulse of action. Without Indy, he felt so vulnerable, empty-handed in spite of the weapons in his hands. If they charged and he and Twig didn't manage to shoot them first…
Father. Father, what should I do?

Twig glanced at him nervously, expectantly. Her thin fingers curled, white with fear, around her bow.

“Breathe deep, Twig. Think calm. No fear. They'll sense it.”

Twig nodded slowly. Three pale forms edged closer. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben watched Twig shut hers. Her lips moved a little. Talking to herself. Or to God. Praying. Her hands relaxed, and her eyes opened.

The unicorns snorted and sniffed. One of them pranced even closer, then circled back away—playfully?

They nickered at each other, and then they leaped away. A few yards into the trees, one of them paused and looked back.

“Hey there, friend.” Ben gave the unicorn a reassuring nod. “It's good to see you again.”

***

Just moments after Twig and Ben ducked back into the hollow, Wonder and Indy opened their eyes and rose to their feet. They showed no signs of the strange, deep sleep. They sniffed the air curiously and nickered to each other, probably about the other unicorns that had come so close.

Twig was grateful they were all right and that she and Ben had had a peaceful encounter with the herd. Still, what had caused that odd, deep sleep? What if it happened again? What if one of the more aggressive wild unicorns sensed that they were vulnerable and tried to take them out?

Twig and Ben tacked up their unicorns and headed out of the hollow, in search of the herd. It seemed that at least a few of them were willing to consider the herders as something other than enemies—or prey. But how would they react to Indy and Wonder, whom Dagger had seen as such a threat?

Wonder sniffed and nickered to Indy. Indy sniffed too. He neighed softly in agreement.

“We're close,” Ben said.

“To a unicorn?”

The ferns rustled a few yards away. Wonder lurched forward, but Twig pulled her back. “Whoa, girl,” she said softly. “Not yet. Not like that.”

Indy voiced his own low warning. Ben gave Twig a nod and motioned for her to back up while he and Indy went forward slowly, steadily. “Follow,” he whispered, “just like this.”

Wonder followed Indy, though her restraint was much more forced. An anguished cry came from the undergrowth. Ben and Indy stopped, and Twig reined Wonder in beside them. Wonder pinned her ears and peered into the flattened brush. A unicorn lay there with an ugly, enflamed gash on its side.

Ben looked a little like he was going to be sick. He sounded hoarse as he said, “That's Bounce. She always had a funny hop to her step.”

An unsettling mixture of emotions burned in Twig's chest. “She has a name? Do all of them have names?”

“Of course. You cannot help naming a unicorn.”

“But you never told me—I thought—”

Ben answered Twig in a soothing singsong tone that didn't match their conversation or Bounce's condition—a tone meant to keep Indy and Wonder at ease and to keep from pushing the already anxious wild unicorn over the edge. “Merrill and I thought it would be easier for you not to know.”

“To see them as nameless wild things. As the enemy.”

“They
were
the enemy when they attacked us.”

Twig kept her mouth shut only because she knew she was starting to sound upset, and they were here to calm an injured unicorn. She thought of the gentle unicorn Merrill had lured away from the herd last winter with carrots and calming herbs. He'd called him Marble, and Twig had assumed Merrill had named him just then. Had Marble been
Marble
all along?

The unicorn had become tame, giving them all hope for the rest of the herd—until those very unicorns, Marble's own herd mates, had come and nearly killed Marble. In order to save him from Lonehorn Island's wayward herd, Merrill had to risk taking Marble back into Terracornus—where he would be considered an illegal unicorn and could be taken away, and Merrill punished severely. Merrill had been keeping Marble hidden at a safe house in Silverforest, Terracornus, ever since.

Twig jumped as the creature emitted a whine that verged on a growl. It seemed Bounce couldn't decide whether to scare them away or beg them for help.

“Hey there, Bounce.” Ben drew a packet out of his pouch, careful not to make any sudden movements. “I brought you a little treat.”

Ben tossed a ball of calming herbs mixed with chopped apples and wrapped in lettuce leaves. The unicorn startled, glared at them, then sniffed and nudged the packet. With one ear tuned to the humans, she lipped the lettuce.

“There now,” Ben whispered. “We'll leave her to eat. In a little while, we'll come back and—”

Indy cried out in warning, and Wonder wheeled around. Bounce tried and failed to scramble to her feet. Another unicorn charged through the brush, horn tipped and ready to bore into Wonder.