Guardians of the Wild Unicorns

by Lindsay Littleson

  “His knots were rubbish! They all came undone!”

  Rhona stormed over, leaping to Lewis’s defence as usual. “It was a team challenge, you bampot. It wasn’t Lewis’s fault you capsized the raft. Your paddling was pure mince.”

  “I can tie knots, he said. I learned in Anchor Boys. Loser.” Flora achieved a mean impersonation of Lewis’s voice, vowels clipped, posh as the Queen’s. She even flicked her hair the way Lewis did when he was nervous. But she didn’t go any further. When they were in Primary 5, she’d gone too far and Lewis told her he’d report her to the Head for racist bullying. She’d bawled at him that he couldn’t take a joke, but the Head hadn’t found Flora’s ‘jokes’ remotely funny either.

  Rhona had her own strategy for dealing with bullies. She raised her fists. “Shut your trap, Flora, or I’ll dunk you back in head first.”

  Flora wisely shut it.

  “Don’t listen to her.” Rhona took Lewis’s arm in hers. “She’s just ragin’ cos we beat her in the quiz.” She stuck her tongue out at Flora and marched Lewis out of range.

  “Rhona, I’m not bothered, honestly. We’ve got more important things to worry about than Flora.”

  Behind them, an engine revved, car tyres rumbled. Rhona looked up and her grip on Lewis’s arm tightened. “Aw, no… look.”

  A battered khaki Land Rover was careering away from the big house, rattling over a cattle grid and hurtling up the road that ran towards the main gate.

  “It’s Ailsa,” whispered Rhona. “She’s leaving! We’ve got to do it now, Lewis, while she’s away. This is our chance to rescue the unicorns.”

  Lewis didn’t speak. He stared after the vehicle. One of its doors had a massive dent in it, more a hole than a dent, as if it had been slammed by a battering ram. Or speared by a unicorn’s horn.

  17

  Rhona

  It was hard to enjoy a ham and pickle piece when she was sick with nerves. Rhona was chilled to the bone after the raft building, so the hot drink was welcome, although she spilled some over her already manky jeans when Alex McAllister leapt to his feet right in front of her.

  “Oh, hello, Uncle!” he called. “I wondered if you’d join us this morning!”

  The Laird was rosy-cheeked, white-haired and bearded, and wore a waxed jacket, kilt and Timberlands. Accompanying him were two lolloping black Labradors. He patted his nephew on the back and waved cheerily at the group on the beach.

  “He’s like a garden gnome,” said Flora through a mouthful of sandwich. Miss James glared, but Flora was right enough. He just needed a red hat and a fishing rod.

  The Laird beamed at them, waving his walking stick in the air. “Welcome to Langcroft, boys and girls! I hope you’re having a wonderful time here!”

  “It’s very decent of you to allow us to use your grounds,” said Mr Deacon.

  “It’s absolutely no trouble, I assure you! Please feel free to walk around…”

  “He seems harmless,” whispered Rhona.

  Lewis looked thoughtful and glugged his hot chocolate. “He’s allowed this to happen though, hasn’t he? Even if his intentions were good, by agreeing to Ailsa stealing the unicorns he’s put them in danger. He should have left them alone. He should have left them in Whindfall Forest, where they belong.”

  Rhona nodded.

  “Right, guys.” Scott stood up. “The Laird has kindly invited us on a walk to see the Salmon Leap. Gather up your stuff. Let’s go!”

  As the others started filing after the teachers and the Laird, Lewis tugged at Rhona’s sleeve.

  “We can’t go with them. We’ve got one chance to save the unicorns, Rhona.”

  She nodded, her heart thumping in her chest. Mr Deacon was going to be so mad at them, but still…

  So they lagged behind, and when the others headed towards the riverbank, they hid behind a tree and waited until the rest of the group were out of sight.

  “There’s no use goin’ empty-handed,” said Rhona. “I’ve got an idea. Come on!”

  “Rhona, we’ve already looked in there,” Lewis grumbled as she opened the door of the boathouse.

  She raked through the heap of tools she’d spotted last time until she found what she needed.

  “An axe? Who are you planning to behead?”

  “Gie me a hand, Lewis. It weighs a ton.”

  With Lewis’s help, Rhona lugged the heavy implement. Being armed, even with a rusty axe, gave her more confidence, but negotiating the woods was still a difficult challenge. Twice Rhona had to drop the axe in the undergrowth in case she terrified a passing tourist.

  Eventually they reached a fence marked:

  PRIVATE

  KEEP OUT

  Once they’d clambered over it, the paths disappeared. The electric current of expectation that Rhona had felt in the air yesterday was gone. She sensed that the unicorns had lost hope.

  At one point she attempted to psych herself up by waving the axe like a warrior Pict, but it was too heavy, flipped backwards and scraped against the ground. It seemed like a bad omen, as if the task they’d set themselves was too big.

  “Do you want to go back?” she asked Lewis, but the look he gave her was adamant. She nodded and walked on.

  She imagined the uncomplicated laugh she could have had on the walk with the rest of the group to the Salmon Leap. This week was supposed to be her respite, her escape from worry and responsibility, but now she was being pulled in a very different direction. Who was doing the pulling? Was it the unicorns, or her own heart?

  Her shoulders sagged with relief when they came across the unicorn carving and knew they were going in the right direction. As she walked past it, she felt the atmosphere change. There was that hum of expectation.

  Lewis must have felt it too. “They know we’re coming,” he said.

  As the pair walked on, the clouds drifted apart and the sun peeped through, making wet leaves shimmer and the grass glisten, jewel-bright. Somewhere in the trees, a woodpecker drummed.

  “It feels magical in here, like an enchanted forest,” she whispered.

  Lewis laughed. “Or it might just be a bog-standard wood with added unicorns.”

  When they finally reached the stockade, Rhona took a deep breath, caught between anticipation and fear.

  Every muscle tensed, she crept forward and shimmied under the fence, dragging the axe behind her. Lewis followed. Once inside the stockade, Rhona let the axe drop, glad to be free of its weight.

  “Let’s see if we can switch off the electric fence first,” she said.

  Lewis nodded, and together they walked around the perimeter of the stockade until Lewis stopped at a metal box on a pole beside the fence.

  “That’s the security box. The energiser will be in there.”

  Rhona reached towards it.

  “Don’t touch!”

  Lewis tugged the hood of her jacket so hard she fell backwards.

  She scrambled to her feet, furious. “What was a’ that about?”

  Lewis shrugged. He didn’t appear remotely sorry about sending her flying. “It’s live, Rhona.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “See that lighting symbol? It means you’ll get an electric shock if you touch the box. I guess it’s to stop people from vandalising it or stealing the energiser inside. It’ll have an insulated key, but I expect Ailsa keeps that.”

  “You mean we can’t switch off the fence?”

  “No. We could try and short-circuit it, but I’m not sure how. I’d need to google instructions and I haven’t got my mobile.”

  They both stood, statue-still, staring at one another, trying to think of a solution, when there was none. Then she remembered the axe. She ran over to it and picked it up in both hands.

  “Are you planning to chop down one of the posts?” Lewis asked. “You could create a gap that way, but I’m not sure it would be wide enough for the unicorns to escape through.”

  “That would take all day long, you eejit.”

  Insi
de the stockade, the unicorns had become restless. The air swirled with their feelings: rage, frustration, longing, hope.

  Rhona didn’t speak aloud; instead she let her thoughts fly across the barricade, and hoped that the unicorns would somehow sense her intentions.

  I’m going to smash the lock.

  It was as if the whole world was waiting. Birdsong ceased, the breeze dropped and, within the stockade, a deep silence fell.

  Rhona stood in front of the doors, wiped both palms on her jeans and swung the axe.

  The first blow missed the padlock completely, splintering against wood.

  Lewis stopped studying the fence, ran forward and took hold of the shaft of the axe.

  “Good plan. Let’s do it together. We’ll get a better lift. Ready? Aim for the shackle.”

  “Naw… really?”

  The noise of the axe clanging against metal, bashing into wood, was horrendous. Between each attempt, Rhona raised her head and listened, waiting for Alex, Ailsa or the Laird to rush up and demand to know what they were doing.

  The iron shackle was crushed and crumpled, but the lock still held, and they were running out of time. Together, they raised the axe again, brought it down as hard as they could. The axe head cracked against iron, then spun off its shaft, sailed through the air and thudded into the side of an old beech tree.

  For a long, terrible moment, they stood in silence, unable to process this disaster. Then Rhona let go off the axe handle, and clamped her hands over her mouth, stifling a sob.

  “It’s over.” Lewis let the axe shaft fall. “The axe is wrecked.”

  “We must have weakened the lock, surely?” Rhona was desperate to hold on to hope.

  “Maybe, but it’s held.” Lewis’s voice was brisk, but she could tell his heart was breaking.

  And then, from inside the stockade, there was a series of crashes so loud Rhona gasped.

  “They’re trying to break out!” yelled Lewis, running back towards the front of the stockade.

  As Rhona raced to the doors, she saw he was right.

  There was no need for her and Lewis to finish the job of breaking the lock. The unicorns were doing that for themselves. Again and again, a mass of hooves crashed against the double doors. The wood bent, the crumpled hasp broke apart and the padlock clattered to the ground. There was a splintering of wood and one of the doors fell with a massive bang, sending clouds of dust into the air.

  Rhona leapt back towards the wall, dragging Lewis with her, as the unicorns surged out of the stockade and galloped around it. It was like a stampede, but the animals weren’t panicking, or leaderless. A tall female, the lead mare, led the charge. By their fifth circuit, they’d built up speed and that’s when the mare jumped, soaring like Pegasus over the electric fence. She whinnied at the others to follow and one by one they did, leaping, as smooth and confident as racehorses, then galloping away through the silver birch trees, immediately camouflaged, almost invisible. Both children stood stock-still, frozen in wonder. Rhona’s hands were clenched tight, her body taut as a wire, terrified that one of the unicorns might misjudge the leap and hit the electrified fence. As each one jumped, the smile on her face grew wider.

  “Keep going! Keep going!” she whispered, counting them out. “Twelve, thirteen…”

  The unicorns were focussed on escape, but the last to jump, a young ash-grey colt with a silver mane and a horn like polished pewter, reared, rolled his eyes and snorted, and then trotted towards them. Majestic and powerful, he stood in front of them, one cloven hoof pawing at the ground, his dark eyes gazing into theirs, radiating magic.

  Liath…

  The word swirled in the dust and leaves, then drifted away, carried by the breeze.

  Liath bowed his head, and then leapt over the fence and galloped after the herd, leaving Rhona and Lewis standing alone in the stockade. They watched, silent, open-mouthed in awe, until the last unicorn was a distant blur.

  “Oh, wow. He was saying thank you, Lewis.”

  “I think you’re right.” He turned to Rhona. “Well, pal! We did it! We saved the unicorns!”

  “I told you teamwork isn’t so terrible. You should try it more often.”

  He didn’t sneer at her, just nodded his head and gave her a sheepish smile. “Bet they’re heading for Whindfall Forest!”

  “Let’s hope they get there before Ailsa realises they’ve gone.”

  “And we’d better get back.”

  But Rhona shook her head and walked into the stockade. The air was foetid, the ground splattered with dung, and it was empty. There were no unicorns left in there.

  Lewis called, his voice tinged with worry. “Rhona, we need to go! What are you doing?”

  She stomped out of the stockade and faced him, hands on her hips.

  “Weren’t you counting? Ailsa said she’d nicked sixteen unicorns, an’ one of them was pregnant. The stallion’s deid, so that leaves fifteen. I’ve just counted fourteen unicorns in there, and none of them was expectin’. One of the mares is missing. We need to find her.”

  18

  Lewis

  Lewis shook his head in disbelief. Rhona could not be serious. They’d just risked their lives to save the unicorns. For a moment, he’d felt massively proud that together they’d achieved something incredible – and, he had to admit, he’d felt relieved that it was over. But now, according to Rhona, it wasn’t over after all.

  “You can’t be sure, in all that chaos. Maybe you miscounted.” He could hear a self-pitying whine in his voice, and felt ashamed of it. “And even if you’re right and there’s another unicorn, we can’t look for her now. Mr Deacon is going to be fuming about us sneaking off.”

  They began to walk, Lewis’s head dizzy with the memory of the unicorns streaming out of the stockade, galloping through the woods towards freedom.

  He and Rhona were almost at the loch when they heard a booming voice. “Rhona! Lewis! Where on earth have you been? Will you get down here now!”

  Mr Deacon sounded as though he was bellowing into a megaphone. They could hardly pretend they hadn’t heard him. Slowly, reluctantly, they headed along the water’s edge. Rhona trailed along behind Lewis, kicking sand and pebbles so they sprayed in the air and hit against his calves.

  He spun round, ready to yell at her to give over. But then he saw her face. Her hood was up, her chin down. Lewis recognised that defeated look, because he’d seen it before.

  When they were both in Primary 3, at three o’clock in the afternoon the Infants’ door would burst open like a party popper and they’d all stream out. Rhona would thunder towards the gate, whirling a skipping rope like a lasso, then gaze round, eyes bright and hopeful, at the parents clustered under their umbrellas. Her expression would darken, her mouth would set in a line, and she’d turn and stomp back across the playground towards the waiting teachers. Lewis never got to go home at 3 p.m. either, but he knew Mum was at work and she’d pick him up from after-school care later.

  “Mummy not here?” Miss McKay would sigh as Rhona slunk over, dragging her school bag. “I expect she got caught up in the traffic.”

  The teacher’s voice had been bright and brittle. It had been obvious, even to them, a pair of seven year olds, that traffic problems were unlikely to be preventing Rhona’s mum making the three-minute walk from her front door to the school gate.

  “Maybe she’s been run over,” Lewis had said. He blushed as he remembered what a little ray of sunshine he’d been, always considering worst-case scenarios first.

  “Lewis, there’s Mrs Farrell waiting to take you to after-school. Off you go!”

  Miss McKay would try and dispatch him before he could invent some other horrible end for Rhona’s mother. Rhona would just keep on kicking the penguin-shaped bin in the playground.

  “And is it Mum who’s supposed to be collecting you? Or your neighbour again, maybe?”

  Rhona had never seemed to have a clue who was collecting her, or when.

  It must be easier for
her now, Lewis thought, or at least less embarrassing. After school these days Rhona walked home and let herself in with the key she kept in her school bag.

  He couldn’t bear to see that old look on her face right now. He put his hand on her shoulder and made her a promise.

  “Rhona, we’ll find the unicorn. Not now, not this second, but I swear to you, we’ll find her and we’ll save her. OK?”

  The hood lifted. She gave him a watery smile and then her head bobbed back down. He got the feeling she didn’t believe a word.

  Mr Deacon was apoplectic with rage, but somehow Rhona managed to calm him down with a grim tale about a sudden upset stomach. According to her massive lie, she’d needed to go to the loo urgently and had no time to ask permission… Lewis had apparently been so worried that he’d kindly come with her and waited outside for ages until she’d recovered. She gave so much gruesome detail about her symptoms that Mr Deacon ended up shaking his head vigorously and begging her to stop.

  “FTMI, Rhona: far too much information. Are you all right now?”

  “I’m brand new, thanks for asking. Did you have a lovely walk, Mr Deacon?”

  “Fabulous. The Laird has been telling us all about his conservation projects, haven’t you, sir?”

  The Laird nodded and gave them all his rosy-cheeked smile.

  “And now we have time for a short visit to the gift shop,” continued Mr Deacon.

  Lewis could see desperation in Rhona’s eyes. “I’m sure we’ll cope without a Langcroft pencil or mug or shortbread tin,” he said slowly. “Nobody will be any the wiser if we have a look around.”

  A smile flickered on Rhona’s face. “What about over there?” She pointed towards the old stable blocks opposite the toilets and gift shop. But when they looked more closely, the stalls were cluttered with junk. There was no way a unicorn was hiding among ancient paint cans and rusting bikes.

  As they walked back to the bus, Rhona’s steps slowed to a crawl. “Did you hear that? I’m sure I heard a neighing sound.”