Once Upon a Unicorn

by Lou Anders

  “I wasn’t taking you prisoner.”

  “Not very well, obviously.”

  “You’re not my prisoner. You’re not my thrall. You’re not my zombie.”

  “Hmm,” said Curious. “Are you sure you’re a proper night mare?”

  He leaned in close, trying to study Midnight’s muzzle. She snorted out a little burst of fire that made him rear back swiftly.

  “Okay, you’re a night mare,” he said. “But you’re a strange one. Don’t worry, though. I’ll figure it out. I have a Scientific Mind.”

  “That’s right,” said Wartle, suddenly emerging from where he had been tangled up in Curious’s mane this entire time. “He has a Scientific Mind.”

  Midnight reared in surprise.

  “What is that?”

  “That’s Wartle,” said Curious.

  “What’s a wartle doing in your mane?”

  “He’s a puckle, not a wartle. His name is Wartle.”

  Midnight peered at the furry little creature. She had heard of puckles but never met one. She only met the nastier sort of fairy in the Whisperwood.

  “That still doesn’t explain what he was doing in your mane,” she said.

  “He’s my friend,” said Curious. “Also, he helps me with things.”

  “Helps?”

  “Hands,” said Wartle. He held up his pink fingers and wriggled them proudly.

  “Very useful when conducting experiments,” said Curious.

  “I suppose,” said Midnight. She didn’t know what an experiment was, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit to it. “Still, it doesn’t seem very unicorny to keep a wartle in your mane.”

  “A puckle. His name is Wartle.”

  “But, isn’t he a little, well, funny-looking for a unicorn to wear?”

  “Funny-looking!” objected Wartle.

  “Sorry,” said Midnight. “But everyone knows unicorns can’t stand anything that’s not as beautiful as they think they are.”

  “Ha,” said Curious. “That shows what you know. I am a unicorn with a Scientific Mind. I want to understand important things. I want to glean their inner workings. I don’t just gawk at something because it’s pretty.”

  “I am pretty,” said Wartle in a little, hurt voice. “Inner workings and all.”

  Midnight let out a long whinny of a laugh. She wasn’t laughing at Wartle. That would be mean. She was laughing at Curious.

  “Whoever heard of a unicorn with a Scientific Mind? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Unicorns don’t have minds. Their heads don’t have room for anything else besides their own giant egos.”

  Curious stamped a hoof angrily.

  “Not true,” he said. “You only think that because you’re a Creature of Wickedness.”

  “I am not a Creature of Wickedness!” Midnight objected.

  “You live in the Whisperwood, don’t you?” said Curious.

  “Well, yes.”

  “And Wicked Creatures live in the Whisperwood, don’t they?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “Then it follows that you are a Creature of Wickedness. If you don’t understand this, it is because you don’t have a Scientific Mind, but trust me, it all makes sense when you have an enlightened perspective.”

  “Look, idiot,” said Midnight, “if I’m a Creature of Wickedness, then what did I save you for? Explain that, huh?”

  Curious was silent a moment. Then he mumbled something.

  “What’s that?” asked Midnight.

  “I can’t explain it,” Curious repeated. “It’s inexplicable.”

  “Inexplicable,” repeated Wartle.

  Curious sighed. Then he brightened. He was never down for long.

  “There must be something wrong with you. You must be broken in some way. You are malfunctioning.”

  “Malfunctioning?”

  “I don’t know how, but don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

  “You don’t have to figure it out,” said Midnight. “I’ll tell you. I saved you because we night mares are better than you unicorns.”

  “Horsefeathers!” said Curious. This was a horsey expression. It meant something was ridiculous and impossible. Because, obviously, horses didn’t have feathers.

  (Obviously, the unicorns of the Glistening Isles had never met a hippalectryon or a pegasus, or they would know there are at least two horses that do have feathers. Though, admittedly, one of them is ridiculous and the other is impossible.)

  “We are better!” insisted Midnight.

  “You are not,” said Curious. He was really offended now. Which wasn’t something his Scientific Mind was prepared for.

  “We are. And I proved it by rescuing you.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “It does.”

  “It does,” said Wartle. Then the puckle realized he was repeating for the other side. He wiggled his fingers again to remind Curious of their usefulness.

  And speaking of the other side, what do you think happened to Midnight’s friend Vision? She was on the opposite bank of the River Restless. She saw Midnight rescue the unicorn, but she couldn’t believe it. When Midnight swam to the unicorn side of the river, she really couldn’t believe it. But what she really, really couldn’t believe was that her friend was talking—talking!—with the unicorn now. She couldn’t believe it, but that didn’t mean she was going to stand for it.

  “Hey, Midnight?” she yelled. And she yelled it over and over, getting louder and louder. “Midnight! Midniiiiiiight!”

  Curious and Midnight finally heard her. The unicorn looked across the waters to the fiery horse on the shore.

  “What is that night mare doing telling us the time?” he asked.

  “She’s not telling us the time,” said Midnight.

  “She seems awfully interested that we know it.”

  “She’s not telling us the time!”

  “Midnight!” Vision hollered.

  “There she goes again,” said Curious.

  “Midnight, get back here!” Vision shouted.

  “I can’t,” said Midnight. “I’m stuck.”

  “Oh, I get it,” said Curious. “Your name is Midnight.”

  “Great,” said Midnight. “Now the unicorn knows my name.”

  “Yes,” said Curious. He gave Midnight a smug expression. “And I must say, it’s a fitting name for a Creature of Wickedness.”

  “For the last time,” snarled Midnight, “I. AM. NOT. A. CREATURE. OF. WICKEDNESS.”

  Of course, she was so mad that flames shot out of her mouth. And nose. And ears. And probably her bottom too if you want to be indelicate but accurate. They scorched the grass all around her in a circle and sent up a puff of black smoke.

  Midnight stood in a circle of ash, panting and glowering angrily, her eyes blazing red and little dark clouds rising into the air around her.

  Curious gave Midnight a very skeptical look.

  “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree,” he said.

  Before Midnight could respond, Wartle interrupted.

  “Winky!” he cried. Then he used his hands to point at the wispy wood wink, which had drifted back over the land and was slinking off into the woods.

  “Winky,” Wartle cried again.

  “My wispy wood wink!” said Curious.

  “It’s my wispy wood wink!” replied Midnight. “And it’s getting away!”

  “Yours?” said Curious. “It’s not yours; it’s mine!”

  “Only if you catch it first,” said Midnight. Then she burst into a gallop.

  “Hey! What—wait!” Curious stammered. Then he broke into a run as well.

  And just like that, the chase was on.

  The wispy wood wink was bobbing furiously
. It flew through the air, floating parallel to the river. Its glowing blue light was getting smaller and smaller as it flew farther and farther.

  “It can’t get away!” yelled Midnight. “I have to eat it!”

  She kicked up her hooves and redoubled her charge.

  Curious almost stumbled at her words. Surely he hadn’t heard her correctly.

  “Eat it?” the unicorn cried. “What do you mean ‘eat it’? You can’t eat it! It’s for my Experiment.”

  And he, too, kicked up his hooves, and he charged after Midnight.

  “Hands!” shouted Wartle, clinging tightly onto Curious’s back. He didn’t have hooves to kick. And he didn’t quite follow what was happening, so he thought it was a good idea to remind everyone again why he was special.

  The two horses raced along the riverbank, the puckle clinging to one of them.

  Midnight was fast. But Curious was desperate.

  He was hot on her heels. Which was impressive, because her heels were hot.

  Little fires flared where she stepped. They burned out quickly in her wake, but Curious had to watch where he put a hoof or—

  “Ow, ow, ow!” he yelped whenever he stepped on her flaming hoofprints. “That burns!”

  “Then stop following me!” Midnight shouted.

  “I’m not following you. I’m following my wispy wood wink!”

  “You mean my wispy wood wink,” replied Midnight. “I’ve been after it all night. I’m going to eat it.”

  “Oh, no,” said Curious. “That’s my wood wink. I’ve been after it all night. And eating it is not part of the Experiment. Catching it, yes. Studying it, yes. Eating it, no!”

  “Don’t eat Winky!” yelled Wartle.

  Yes, they were quite a sight.

  But they weren’t the only sight to see.

  Not at all.

  Because up ahead, just a little ways farther up the river, there was a Something that was very, very out of place on the Glistening Isles.

  The wispy wood wink paused in its flight. Then it turned at a right angle and dove into the shelter of this new, strange Something.

  Both unicorn and night mare stopped short.

  “What is that?” said Midnight. She was suspicious of this new Something.

  “I don’t know,” said Curious. He was just as suspicious as she was, but he remembered that he was not just a unicorn, but also a scientist. He had to act a certain way. “But my Scientific Mind will investigate,” he proclaimed, trying to sound braver than he felt.

  He trotted forward.

  The Something, whatever it was, was made of old and rotting planks of wood. It had moss growing on it in spots, and holes in other spots where bits of it had crumbled away with age. That was very weird, because nothing built of fairy magic could ever age and rot and crumble away on the Glistening Isles.

  “Bridge,” said Puckle.

  “What?” said both horses.

  “It’s a covered bridge,” replied the little fairy. “For going across the river.” He demonstrated by making four of his fingers walk across his palm. Then, amused with himself, he made his fingers dance a jig.

  “But why does it look like that?” said Midnight. “This isn’t a fairy bridge, is it?”

  “I don’t think it is,” said Curious. “If the queen made a bridge, it would be a big shining hunk of clear crystal. Or a rainbow maybe. Or a path of yellow bricks.”

  “And I’m pretty sure any Wicked Fairy would make a bridge of black stones and frozen smoke,” said Midnight. “Or solid fire. Or a storm cloud. It might be scary, but it wouldn’t look so worn and, well, sad as this one does. Who builds a bridge out of old wood, anyway?”

  “I think it’s human-made,” said Curious.

  “Impossible,” said Midnight.

  “To the enlightened mind, nothing is impossible,” said Curious. He said it because he thought it sounded impressive, though in truth he didn’t actually know what it meant.

  “Do you think it’s from long ago?” asked Midnight. “I mean, from before.”

  She meant from the time before the fairies came to the Glistening Isles, when these islands had been home to some very wild and blue-tattooed humans. But everything from that time was all gone.

  All, it seemed, except for this lone, sad, rotting little bridge.

  “Wow,” said Midnight.

  “Wow,” said Curious.

  And Wartle would have said “wow” too, only then Something new happened upon them.

  For a moment, neither Curious nor Midnight could speak. They were too busy staring, mouths hanging open, at the Something coming at them.

  Remember that pumpkin that was watching our night mares, Vision and Midnight? And you wondered how a pumpkin could watch anyone?

  Well, this is how.

  Picture a person. Or at least something that walks on two legs and has two arms and is dressed like a person, although its clothes are shabby and tattered. And its head…well, that head is very definitely not like a person. Not like a person at all.

  Because you see as it approaches…

  The head is a pumpkin. A great orange jack-o’-lantern. With a toothy grin. A triangle hole for nose. And two wicked eyes sliced into its shell. And out of those two wicked eyes the flickering yellow light of a candle flame shines.

  This, my friends, is Jack o’ the Hunt.

  Doesn’t his very name make you shiver and shake and cry for Daddy?

  Brrrr…

  Jack o’ the Hunt is a Wicked Fairy. Maybe the worst Wicked Fairy on the Glistening Isles. It’s hard to know for sure, because the others mostly stay in their Dark Castle. But Jack o’ the Hunt doesn’t stay put. He roams the land. He wanders hither, thither, and yon.

  He’s a member of the Court of Thistles. Or maybe the messenger of the Court of Thistles. Or maybe he’s the Court Jester.

  There are those who say he is all those things. And there are those who say that Jack serves only himself. They say if the Court of Thistles thinks Jack works for them, that’s only because Jack has fooled them good.

  What do I think? I think if you ever see Jack coming you should head the other way. That’s what I think.

  Because whatever Jack is, he’s bee-ay-dee bad!

  So head the other way.

  Unfortunately, at least for one of our horses, heading the other way meant going across the bridge.

  To the other side of the river.

  To night mare territory.

  And you know which horse didn’t want to do that.

  Righto. Our unicorn.

  Curious had never been on that side of the river in all his young life, and he didn’t plan to go there now.

  But his Scientific Mind was rapidly coming up short of other options. So he tore his eyes from Jack and glanced at the bridge.

  The bridge might not be as sturdy as he’d like, but it did stretch across the River Restless. And most of its boards were still in place, even if they were rotten and full of holes.

  So maybe he wouldn’t fall in if he walked across. The nonscientific parts of his mind cried out, then you’ll be on the other side. And that might be worse.

  Jack spoke. His pumpkin head didn’t have a tongue, so I don’t know how he spoke. But speak he did.

  Jack’s tongueless mouth spoke in a deep voice. He sounded like he was very pleased with himself. Like he found everything a little bit funny.

  Also, he spoke in rhyme.

  (Rhyming fairies are the worst!)

  And this is what he said.

  “What is this, that Jack does spy

  With his hollow pumpkin eye?

  The Thistle Court would say Jack lied

  To tell of unicorn ’n’ night mare side by side.”

  At those last words, Midnight snapp
ed out of her fright. Truth told, she was never very frightened of anything. Not for long. Cold fear wasn’t a match for hot fire. The fire inside her always burned up all her fear before it could really catch hold.

  “I’m not with the unicorn,” Midnight sneered. “We just so happen to be chasing after the same thing, that’s all.”

  Winky must have understood some of that, because the blue light shining out from the covered bridge suddenly flickered as if in panic.

  Jack’s candle flames wavered. Was he looking over the horses at the wispy wood wink? What would a pumpkin-headed fairy want with a wood wink? It wasn’t very likely that a pumpkin had a Scientific Mind like Curious. Jack’s mouth was just a carved hole in a shell, so it’s doubtful he wanted to eat the wink like Midnight. And it’s hard to be sure where a candle flame looks. When Jack spoke again, his voice had a wistful note.

  “Oh, how I long to ride this unicorn!

  But alas, alack, Jack’s so forlorn.

  The queen’s anger he’ll not dare.

  Perhaps the Flower Court would share?”

  Now it was Curious’s turn to be offended by Jack’s verse. He didn’t like the tone of Jack’s words at all. No one rode unicorns. No one! Except maybe the fairy queen. And that was only because they let her—because she had done so much for them, and she didn’t weigh very much at all. Curious certainly wasn’t someone’s toy pony to be shared about with Wicked Fairy Creatures.

  “We’re not her mounts; we’re not her pets,” he said, glaring at the grinning pumpkin. “We’re her friends.” Unfortunately, this only made Jack o’ the Hunt laugh—Ho ho he he ho—and then he sang another rhyme.

  “Why, you’ve all the freedom of a rose

  That outside palace window grows!

  One day she’ll spy you on her lawn,

  And pluck at dusk what blooms at dawn.”

  “We belong only to ourselves,” insisted Curious. But Jack’s words were making him curiously uncomfortable. Because he couldn’t help but wonder just what Jack meant. He didn’t get very far in his thinking, though, because just then Midnight interrupted him.

  “Hey, unicorn,” she said. “Maybe now’s not the right time to press that point. Jack won’t take you if he thinks you have the queen’s protection.”