Rhona put her hand over Lewis’s. She was really worried now. Could he have concussion? Hypothermia?
“Lewis, are you sure you’re feeling OK? Forget what I said last night. You’re not selfish… You were upset, and you weren’t thinking straight… It’s just that… you’re my best pal, and—”
“Rhona, stop. I feel fine. I’m just trying to tell you what I saw. I’m not saying it was real. It was dark and I was scared and cold. It was terrifying, to be honest.”
Rhona tried out the sympathetic smile she usually reserved for Primary 1 kids who’d fallen over in the playground. She was trying not to show how worried she was.
“So what did you think you saw?” she asked. “Was it a bird? Because there are some weird-looking birds up here and it could have been one of them. Black grouse and ptarmigans and capercaillies and such like. Birds you don’t ever see in Glasgow. And they make some odd noises, Scott says.”
“Jeez, Rhona. Do you think I’d describe meeting a strange bird as terrifying? I’m not a total wimp.” He took a deep breath. “I’m pretty sure I saw a unicorn.”
For once in her life, Rhona found herself stuck for words. She opened and shut her mouth, gasping like a landed fish, before deciding Lewis had to be having her on. “Good one! You nearly had me there. Did you have your window open last night? Did you hear the story that guy was telling?”
“I heard the story, but, Rhona, I promise I’m not joking. I thought I’d seen a unicorn earlier, in the distance when I was abseiling, but when I was out on the moor, I saw it again—”
Rhona took her hand away, picked at her fingernails. She could no longer look him in the eye. Should I call the doctor? Get Mr Deacon?
A deep flush crept up Lewis’s neck. But he kept talking. “I’m not joking, Rhona. I saw a unicorn. It was coming towards me, head down, twisted horn sharp as a spear. I thought at first I was going to get gored. It was the scariest thing ever.”
Rhona looked up at him and nodded. She kept her voice quiet, trying to make him see sense. “Yeah, but you didn’t see it, did you? You were hallucinating. Folk with hypothermia hallucinate. Sometimes they think they’re boilin’ and they take all their clothes off and freeze to death. You’re lucky you just saw unicorns.”
“I only saw one,” he protested. “Not multiple unicorns. I wasn’t that far gone.”
“And it was charging at you?”
“It was blowing through its nostrils, like horses do when they’re agitated. I thought it was angry at first, but it was afraid. It was really frightened, Rhona. Crazy with fear.”
Rhona shook her head. He was totally havering now. “Doesn’t sound like a unicorn to me.”
“Oh, yeah? Unicorn expert, are you?”
“Kayleigh used to read all those Rainbow Fairy books.” Rhona spoke kindly, channelling Miss James. “Unicorns are gentle. They have big eyelashes, twirly rainbow horns and they let fairies ride on their backs.” But as she spoke, she began to doubt herself. The unicorns in Alex’s story weren’t gentle. Their magic seemed much deeper and darker.
Lewis’s face twisted with anger. “Fairies? Who mentioned ruddy fairies? I wasn’t in flamin’ Disneyland. There was a terrified unicorn stampeding across the moor. I saw it, and you know what? I don’t care if you believe me or not.”
He walked to the window and stared out. Rhona followed him, tried to put her arm round his shoulder, but he shook it off.
“OK, so you saw a wild animal.” Rhona spoke slowly, trying to pick her way towards a logical explanation. “Are you sure it wasn’t an escaped rhinoceros? There’s a safari park near Stirling.”
He spun round. “It wasn’t a rhinoceros. Do you think I’m stupid? It was a unicorn.”
Rhona saw Lewis’s blush deepen. Surely he must realise how mad his story sounded?
“At least, it was a big dark-grey stallion with a horn on its head. It was definitely not a rhino. I know what a bloomin’ rhino looks like.”
“OK, but unicorns aren’t dark, Lewis. Unicorns are snowy white. Everyone knows that.”
But is that true? she wondered, remembering Alex’s words. A stallion named Dubhar, meaning ‘dark shadow’. No, the colour wasn’t the point. Alex was telling a story. He said so himself. Unicorns aren’t real.
“You can stop now.” Lewis rubbed at his face with his hands. “I bow to your superior knowledge of unicorns, gained via second-hand information from kids’ stories. I give up… admit defeat… concede… capitulate.”
“Least I’m not a walking thesaurus.”
Rhona pulled on her jacket. She’d loved Alex’s story last night. She didn’t want to disbelieve Lewis. But unicorns didn’t exist. She needed to help him realise that. She’d prove it to herself too.
“Let’s go for a walk. You’re dead pale. The fresh air will do you good.”
“Shouldn’t we ask Mr Deacon? He’ll freak if he comes out his room and we’re not here.”
Rhona shook her head. If Lewis didn’t start talking sense soon, she’d tell Mr Deacon. He’d know what to do. But she was hoping desperately that it wouldn’t come to that. “We can leave a note. Say we’ll be back in half an hour. Bet he doesn’t even clock that we’ve gone. Come on, Lewis. I’m going stir-crazy in here and I really think you need some time out.”
While Rhona scribbled a note, Lewis pulled on his jacket and Timberlands. Rhona noticed that they were filthy, as if he’d been wading in mud. Maybe he’d tumbled out there in the dark and banged his head. That would explain all this unicorn stuff. There had to be a logical explanation.
They left by the main door. It was chilly outside, but the air felt pure and fresh, a zillion miles from the diesel fumes of Glasgow, and Rhona breathed it in, clearing her lungs. They walked along the track, then headed off into a damp wilderness of grass and heather. The peaks of the mountains were lost in cloud.
They headed downhill towards the loch. It was so peaceful and quiet. Lewis seemed calmer; his pale cheeks scoured red by the cold. He stood by Rhona at the lochside, as she flicked her wrist and sent the stone in her palm flying. It bounced off the smooth surface of the water – once, twice, three times – before it sank.
“How do you do that?” he asked her. “Any time I try, the stone plops underwater and refuses to resurface, or I miss the water completely. I should add it to my list of fails: ‘seriously inept at skimming stones’.”
“Stone skimming isn’t that useful. At least you can read. I’m rubbish at it.” Saying that aloud hurt more than she’d imagined, but Lewis didn’t even seem to have heard her.
“I saw it,” he said suddenly, his tone mutinous. “I saw a unicorn on the moor. You don’t need to believe me.”
“OK then, let’s go and find your unicorn!” Rhona started walking up the hill.
8
Lewis
As he followed Rhona, a memory from last night flickered.
It’ll be OK. I’ll help you, I promise. Don’t be afraid.
Why had he said that? What had been going on in his head? Why had he acted so weird, so completely out of character? Maybe he had been hypothermic, imagining he was some kind of superhero.
Halfway up, Rhona was sitting on a rock, waiting for him. “Glad you’re not on a gorge walk?” she asked.
Lewis sat down beside her, felt the wind scud against his cheeks and whip his long dark hair into tangles. His mum would say that the tangles served him right and he ought to get it cut, but Lewis liked it long, and it was his hair, not hers.
“I’m a hundred per cent glad,” he admitted. “I’ve already disappointed the instructors and Mum and made myself look a loser in front of everyone. The last thing I need is to topple into a gorge and get rescued by air ambulance. But I’m sorry you’re missing out. You’ve taken to this outdoor stuff much better than I have.”
Rhona didn’t even bother to politely disagree with him. She nodded, her eyes sparkling. “It’s amazing. I’ve never done anything more physically challenging than catching a bus to
Buchanan Street. Now I’ve swung down cliffs like Tarzan, climbed mountains like Mulan, paddled a canoe like Pocahontas. I’ve had a brilliant time.”
“You watch way too much Disney. And it was a kayak, actually, not a canoe.”
“Whatever it was, it was great. Just being up here in the Highlands is great.”
“There are warmer places.” Lewis tugged at the zip of his jacket, so it covered the lower part of his face. “It’s Baltic up here.”
“Well, get up off your bahookie. Exercise will soon warm you up.”
They kept walking until they reached the cliff face, scene of Lewis’s abseiling fail. He put the binoculars to his eyes so they clinked against his glasses. Scanning his surroundings, he had to admit it: the Highlands were incredible. They were awesome.
But there were no unicorns. Not a single solitary specimen.
“OK, so it’s a unicorn-free zone here”, he admitted, and he could see the relief on Rhona’s face. “I must have completely lost the plot last night. Let’s go back and see if we can talk the catering staff into giving us some lunch.”
They found a different route, heading in the rough direction of the Centre, following the path of a small stream that cut its way through dark-brown peat and soggy sedge grass. At one point the ground had caved in, leaving a deep pit. They walked carefully around it, hoping the ground wouldn’t give way beneath their feet.
“Scott says these holes can be deadly in winter,” said Lewis. “Imagine going for a walk in the snow and dropping into a deep hole. How freaky would that be?”
Rhona didn’t answer.
She’d stopped a short distance away, head bent, staring down at something. Lewis strained his eyes to see what she was looking at: a large, misshapen heap, its colour blending into the dark, wet ground.
High up in the air, a buzzard keened. Lewis felt every muscle in his body tighten. The chill in his legs spread upwards towards his chest, a cold wave of dread.
“Lewis, what is that?” Rhona’s voice sounded tight, strained.
His feet were frozen to the ground. He couldn’t move, didn’t want to see what was making Rhona’s voice sound so peculiar, so afraid.
“Please, Lewis.”
Heart banging against his ribs, he walked towards her and gazed straight down at the dark, long-limbed heap crumpled in the pit.
Rhona caught hold of his arm. “What’s going on, Lewis? What’s happening?”
Pulling out of her grasp, he backed away, acid rising in his throat, sick with shock and horror. He’d known what it was immediately, of course he had. The colour, the muscled body were all too familiar.
They were looking at the unicorn, and it was dead.
9
Lewis
The animal was lying on its left side, legs sprawled at awkward angles, muscled flanks splattered with mud. Blood trickled from a gaping hole in its neck, dripped from the animal’s mane in stringy rivulets and formed a dark-red pool on the ground.
“It’s been shot,” said Lewis, keeping his voice low, knowing he was stating the obvious but trying to get the fact clear in his head. “It must have been shot as it ran, and fallen in here as it tried to get away.”
However afraid he’d been of the unicorn when it was charging towards him, seeing it lying dead in a damp, muddy hole was horrific. All that power and beauty had been obliterated.
“Who would do such a terrible thing?” Rhona’s eyes were wide, her face as white as her jacket. “You weren’t hallucinating,” she whispered. “I thought you were havering, but you weren’t. And now it’s dead. We need to tell someone, Lewis. The police, Mr Deacon…”
“Yes, killing a unicorn has to be illegal!” he agreed.
“Well, I don’t know if it’s illegal exactly. It’s no’ as if they’re an endangered species like white rhinos or Sumatran tigers.”
“What do you mean they’re not endangered? They’re meant to be extinct, aren’t they? But they’re not. At least they weren’t…” Tears welled in his eyes and he brushed them away with his sleeve. “Do you think this might have been the last unicorn on earth?”
“Lewis, they’re no’ endangered. They’re no’ extinct. They never existed.”
“Um, I’ll think you’ll find they did. There’s one right there.”
“But unicorns aren’t real.” Her voice sounded uncertain, which wasn’t surprising. “They’re like dragons, or kelpies…”
“Rhona, you’re talking rubbish! They’re not like dragons. Unicorns must have lived here once. They’re Scotland’s national animal.”
“Don’t be a numpty! Who told you that?”
“It’s true.” He clung to the fact with the same desperation he’d clung to the kayak the other day. “It was an article about Scotland in one of the magazines in the common room. Scotland’s national animal is definitely a unicorn.”
“Are you sure? Why would we have picked a mythical creature as a national animal? That’s crazy.”
“Well, it would be if the unicorn was a mythical creature, but it’s clearly not, is it, stupid? As I already pointed out, there’s one lying right there.”
Lewis scrambled over the wide ribbon of sedge grass and clambered into the pit, ignoring the trickling water, the slimy mud. He knelt by the unicorn’s body, stroked its tangled, sodden mane.
“I’m sorry, he whispered, tears dribbling down his cheeks. “It wasn’t OK. I didn’t help you. I’m so sorry.”
10
Rhona
She was going to puke, she was sure of it. At first glance, she’d thought she’d found the body of a grey horse, tall as the massive Clydesdales the polis rode at Parkhead football ground, but slimmer built, and with peculiar cloven hooves. But then she’d seen the horn. Long, spiralled, as iridescent as the stone in her mother’s opal ring; the ring Mum said was unlucky and refused to wear any more. This poor beast hadn’t had any luck at all. It was a horrible sight, blood congealing on its neck and its muscled legs twisted.
“I don’t understand what’s goin’ on, Lewis, but we need to get out of here.”
But at that moment Rhona heard a noise behind her. A Land Rover rumbled across the moor, bouncing over rocks and squelching through mud.
She gasped. “Hide!”
“Where?”
She looked round, heart thudding. If she’d been asked, she wouldn’t have been able to explain why she thought they were in danger. She just felt it, the way she could sense how Mum’s day was going as soon as she entered the house.
Lewis pointed upwards at the wide verge of green sedge round the hole.
They ran over and ducked under the overhanging grass. Then Rhona noticed a tunnel, round as a pipe. Water trickled from it, leaving the rocks green and slimy. Muttering swear words, she wriggled inside. Lewis squeezed in beside her. It felt horribly claustrophobic.
Rhona’s jacket was so puffy that she could scarcely move. Not that she wanted to go any further back into a pitch-black, possibly rat-infested tunnel.
“We weren’t trespassing,” Lewis said aloud. “We’ve every right to be on the moor.”
Rhona gave him a poke in the ribs. “Shut up and listen. They’re here.”
The Land Rover’s engine died. A car door slammed, then another. Rhona heard a female voice, young and cold.
“It can’t have got far. We should have come across it by now. I’m pretty sure I clipped it.”
Someone swore.
“Aw, no. It’s right there, Ailsa. Look, it’s missed its footing in the dark and come a cropper, poor beast. We should have come earlier.”
Rhona shivered. She recognised that voice. She was sure of it.
“I was busy, bro, upping security. But I’m sure it’s only a flesh wound. You go down and have a look.”
Rhona gulped. Her heart raced as she heard someone scrambling down into the pit, just a metre or two from where she and Lewis crouched.
There was a long, terrible silence. When the man finally spoke, his voice was thick, as if h
e was holding back tears.
“Oh my God, Ailsa. What have you done?”
Above them, the sedge grass shivered. A booted foot swung right in front of them. Rhona gripped Lewis’s hand, convinced they were about to be discovered. There was a thud, and a dark shadow fell across the tiny cave, then a squelch of boots, as the young woman walked over to look at the animal she’d murdered.
“It was an accident,” she said, her voice icily calm. “The beast was heading straight for the base of the cliff; I was just trying to scare it by sending a bullet whistling past its ear. I didn’t shoot it in cold blood.”
The male voice rose, his anger boiling over. “Why the heck didn’t you use a tranquilliser dart? Look what you’ve done!”
“You know that one was vicious! What was I meant to do? Let it gore me, like it tried to before? Tranquillisers take time to work.”
“He isn’t… He wasn’t vicious. He was only trying to defend his herd.”
“His herd? It’s my herd!” Ailsa spat the words. “What do you know about anything anyway? You swanned off to university and left me and Uncle Donald to take care of everything. Langcroft is broke, bro. The breeding programme is going to save us.”
There was a tense silence, broken by Ailsa’s bitter voice.
“While you were off skiving, I was risking my life stalking ruddy unicorns. Do you know how hard it is to capture one unicorn, let alone sixteen? It’s impossible in the forest; they’re too well camouflaged. I had to wait outside Whindfall, sometimes for weeks, until they ventured out. That was no joke – you know how cold it gets in winter. I nearly lost my fingers to frostbite. I’ve been tossed in a river.” Her voice rose. “That one almost gored me in the leg!”
“You should have left them alone.”
She gave a joyless laugh. “I can’t believe how ungrateful you are. Anyway, have you got any better ideas about how to make money?”
Another silence fell.
Guardians of the Wild Unicorns Page 4
