Guardians of the Wild Unicorns

by Lindsay Littleson

  He’ll just need to get on with it, she thought irritably as she braced herself for the long drop down onto the grass. He has to, for the unicorn’s sake.

  She landed, shone the torch upwards and watched Lewis edge cautiously along the bough of the tree. She could see his reluctance, the tension in his body, and she bounced from foot to foot, caught between impatience and worry.

  “Come on, Lewis. We need to go. Hurry!” she hissed.

  “I can’t,” he muttered. “The ground keeps moving. It’s getting further away”

  In the light of the torch, she noticed his grip on the branch tighten as panic set in.

  “You can, Lewis.”

  She saw him gulp down the fear and start to shuffle further along the bough. She was impressed by his courage. He kept moving forward so that the branch dipped lower and lower, pushed down by his weight, until the leaves on the outer twigs almost brushed the ground.

  “Go for it,” she hissed. “One, two, three… go.”

  He leapt and the branch twanged back, smacking against his leg as he tumbled onto the grass, rolled like an acrobat and splatted into a flowerbed. His glasses flew off his face. She couldn’t help it. The release of tension was so great that she snorted with laughter as she shone the torch in his eyes.

  “Aw, man. You should join a circus.”

  Lewis picked himself up with as much dignity as he could muster. He retrieved his glasses, dusted mud and dead leaves from his jeans, then gave her a low bow. “I’ll learn the trapeze once I’ve mastered basic clown skills.”

  “Nice one, pal.” She handed him his torch. “Can we go unicorn hunting now?”

  “I’m just going to tie my laces, in case I do another pratfall. You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

  She nodded and strode off into the pine woods, her anger forgotten. Her own dodgy torch stayed in her pocket as she tramped along the moonlit paths. She kept glancing behind to check on Lewis’s progress, and she nearly tripped over a passing hedgehog, who panicked and rolled himself into a spiky ball.

  “I can still see you. You’ve just changed shape, not made yourself invisible, you wee numpty.”

  As she skirted the high walls that enclosed the private gardens, a dog barked, too close for comfort. Rhona could make out the house, grey in the moonlight, through a narrow gate in the wall. A light went off in an upstairs room. Her heart thudded in her chest.

  If I was minted, and I lived in that house, and I’d kidnapped a unicorn, and she was havin’ a wean, I’d want her nearby, somewhere, safe and private and quiet… like that big back garden.

  She crept towards the garden gate, crouched low and peered through the bars. The moon’s pale light made the lawns look liquid. It shone on a large wooden shed, tucked away in the corner of the garden, half hidden by the drooping branches of a Kilmarnock willow. She looked behind, could see Lewis’s shadowy shape and bouncing torch beam as he trudged through the trees towards her.

  He might no’ like this plan, she thought. He might no’ like it one bit.

  The gate was locked, so she climbed over it, trying to avoid the fancy wrought-iron scrollwork, which snagged at her clothes. The crunching noise her boots made when she landed on the gravel path seemed far too loud. For a moment she stood, heart thumping, on the edge of the huge expanse of lawn, staring at the house, waiting for the dogs to begin a frenzy of barking.

  When nobody reacted to her presence, she crept across the grass towards the shed, skirting a stack of hay bales piled in front. Rhona wrinkled her nose. The building had been recently painted with wood preserver, and it reeked. But there was another smell she recognised. She remembered Mr D teasing Ellie, the evening they’d arrived at the Centre. They’d gone out for a walk and had passed a herd of Highland cows.

  “Aw, what’s that stink?” Ellie had wailed, holding her nose and screwing up her face. “That’s pure mingin’!”

  Mr D had roared with laughter. “Breathe in that lovely, healthy scent! It’s a lot better for your lungs than petrol fumes and pollution. Fresh country air mixed with cow dung.”

  It was the same smell, Rhona was sure of it. There was definitely an animal in that shed.

  Cautiously, she peered over the open half-door.

  Shafts of silver moonlight glimmered on the walls and on the floor of the shed’s interior, danced over rough-hewn wood walls and a pile of soft straw bedding. Rhona didn’t blink, didn’t rub at her eyes.

  “Oh, jeez,” she breathed. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose as the animal stirred and gazed up with liquid violet eyes. Moonlight sparkled on her shimmering white coat, her translucent silvery mane. Her spiralled horn glistened with a mother-of-pearl sheen.

  There was no doubt, no chance it could be anything else. Rhona was face to face with a beautiful unicorn.

  21

  Lewis

  Lewis hurried after Rhona, following the crunch of her boots on dead leaves. But then the sounds stopped. He switched off his torch because, although it was invisible behind the high wall, he knew the main house was close by. As he passed a gate, his heart stopped.

  Rhona was in the garden, her ridiculous white jacket glowing like a beacon.

  He peered through the bars and saw her in front of a shed, peering over a stable door. “Rhona? What the heck are you doing?”

  She turned, her face pale as the moon, and put a warning finger to her lips. “Shhh! Climb over, quick.”

  Somewhere in the house, a dog barked.

  As Lewis clambered over the garden gate, his heart banged in his ribcage. Why had Rhona put herself so close to harm’s way? Was there a unicorn in that shed? Because if there was, he should be running over there, dragging Rhona away from that doorway before it attacked. He knew how fierce they could be. She was in terrible danger, but for some reason she seemed perfectly calm.

  “Come an’ see! It’s the most amazing thing ever.”

  “Rhona, you need to be careful. Step back.”

  Rhona didn’t turn round. “Come closer.”

  He did as he was told, leaned in so that he could get a better view, and then gasped and drew back, awestruck.

  Rhona turned to him and laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone’s jaw actually drop before.”

  He leaned in again, blinking in amazement. “Oh, wow. Rhona, look at her! She’s incredible.”

  “Isn’t she stunning?” Rhona whispered. “I wish my hair was as shiny and silky as her mane. She could be in a shampoo advert.”

  They watched as the unicorn struggled to her feet and walked to a water trough. She was very beautiful, thought Lewis, but she was extremely overweight and she was making odd, grunting noises.

  “What’s wrong with her?” he asked. “Do you think she’s wounded?”

  “No, you big daftie. Look at her belly. It’s massive. She sounds as though she’s about ready to give birth.”

  Lewis’s eyes widened. “What? She’s going to have the baby? We need to get help!”

  “Who do you suggest we call?” Rhona’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Should we run and get the neighbours? What about Ailsa McAllister? She could bring her shotgun and shoot the unicorn in the neck, then saw off her horn. And then make sure we keep quiet about what we’ve seen by shooting us too.”

  “I was thinking along the lines of an emergency vet, you eejit. The unicorn’s life might be in danger.”

  “We haven’t got mobiles here though, have we? And her life is in danger. Look at that chain round her leg. She’s trapped in a shed, kidnapped by people who are only interested in how much money she’ll make them.”

  Lewis clicked his tongue with frustration. “Why did Mr Deacon insist on no electronic devices? It’s completely irrational. People need mobiles to function.”

  “It won’t have been up to Mr Deacon,” said Rhona. “It’ll have been the head teacher’s or the Outdoor Centre’s decision. And it makes sense, cos Ellie would have been calling her dad every single night. She’s dead homesick.”

  “Y
ou always take Mr Deacon’s side. He’s not that wonderful, you know.”

  Rhona ignored him, as she often did when she thought he was wrong but couldn’t be bothered to argue. She kept her eyes on the unicorn.

  “I don’t think the birth’s going to happen quite yet,” she said. “She seems settled enough.”

  Lewis looked at the unicorn’s heaving flanks and didn’t feel totally convinced. “Since when did you become an expert on unicorn births?”

  “I’m not, you bampot. But I was in class the day they showed us the video of the lamb being born, and I was paying attention, not sitting at the back of the class with my hands over my eyes.”

  Lewis shuddered at the memory. “There was a lot of gunky stuff. It was gross.”

  The unicorn turned, fixed him with those deep violet eyes, as if she’d understood every word he’d said, and he felt himself blushing, mortified. He started gabbling, trying to make up for his rudeness.

  “You can see why unicorns are a symbol of purity and grace. She’s so beautiful.”

  “Do you think she’d mind if I went in?” Without waiting to hear Lewis’s opinion, Rhona unlatched the bottom half of the door and stepped into the shed.

  “I wouldn’t…” gulped Lewis, but Rhona wasn’t paying him any attention.

  Cautiously, she crept closer to the panting unicorn and crouched low. Gently, she extended one hand and stroked the animal’s silken mane. The animal didn’t seem to mind Rhona’s presence. In fact, she seemed comforted by her touch, and closed her eyes.

  Lewis’s shoulders relaxed. Rhona turned and looked at him, tears sparkling in her eyes.

  “We need to get her out of here.”

  “We have to—” he began.

  In the house, the dog barked again. The unicorn’s head jerked up, nearly knocking Rhona backwards. Her upper lip curled and she breathed heavily, sniffing the air. Her ears flicked back and forth. Rhona scrambled to her feet.

  “Lewis, someone’s coming.”

  “Get out! Move, quick!”

  Feet slipping on wet straw, Rhona raced out of the shed. Lewis slammed the bolt. They scurried behind the pile of hay bales, partially covered by a tarpaulin. Lewis pulled it over their heads. If only they’d had the sense, he thought, to wear dark colours as camouflage. His stupid orange jacket even had reflective strips on the arms.

  A beam of yellow light swept over the front of the shed, like a searchlight across a prison yard. For a terrifying moment they both thought they’d been caught. Rhona gasped and Lewis took her outstretched hand, finding strength in its warmth. Two black shadows loomed over the hay bales. Rhona’s grip got bone-crushingly tight. He waited, muscles taut, for the dogs to sniff them out.

  “I don’t know why you made me leave Morag and Flo in the house,” grumbled Ailsa. “Something spooked them. They don’t usually bark at night.”

  Lewis relaxed a little. If the dogs weren’t there, all they had to do was stay quiet and wait it out.

  “The dogs fluster the unicorn, my dear, you know that.” Lewis recognised the Laird’s kindly voice. “We don’t want her upset, not in her condition.”

  “A fat lot of good either of them would be against a burglar, anyway. More than likely they’d lick them to death. I did suggest you get proper guard dogs. I’m sure I could acquire a couple of Dobermanns or Rottweillers to patrol the grounds at night.”

  “Heavens, no. What if one of them was to bite one of our visitors?”

  He seemed such a kindly old gent, thought Lewis. The old man could have no idea what his niece was like.

  Lewis crawled forward, the tarpaulin draped over his shoulders, and peered round the hay bales. He watched the two figures look over the half-door, just as he and Rhona had done. In the torchlight the old man’s heavily lined face looked less benign, more goblin than cheery gnome. His eyes looked wet, as if he’d been crying. Ailsa McAllister was holding the torch.

  “She’s still here. I worried you for nothing. Sorry, Uncle. But I’m a nervous wreck after all these escapes!”

  The old man’s voice was thick with tears. “I can hardly believe what has happened. The danger we have put these animals in by allowing them to escape! At least our project hasn’t been a complete disaster. The mare looks ready to foal. In the next few days, I would guess.” He gave a horrified gasp. “Why has she been chained?”

  “It’s only until I’ve fitted better locks on the shed. After the mass escape, we can’t be too careful. I’ll sort everything out tomorrow.”

  The old man gave a heavy sigh. “A single birth hardly mitigates the disaster of losing the others. Do you think there’s any chance one or two are still on the estate? Perhaps that’s what spooked the dogs. Have you looked everywhere?”

  “I’ve searched everywhere, Uncle Donald. We don’t know exactly when they escaped, but by the time Alex got to the stockade, it was too late. They were long gone. At least, that’s what he tells me. I’ve been all over the moor this afternoon. It’s as they’ve disappeared from the face of the earth. Maybe unicorns have got magical powers, after all.”

  Lewis cringed at her sarcastic tone. How could she look at that unicorn she’d captured and not see that it shimmered with magic?

  “I wouldn’t speak about magic in that mocking way, Ailsa,” chided the Laird. “There’s definitely something extra special about these creatures. Hopefully they’ve all made it safely back to Whindfall Forest.”

  He sighed, and cleared his throat. “To be honest, my dear, since you told me the bad news I’ve had second thoughts about the programme. I’ve been doing further research on the island location you suggested and I don’t feel it’s remote enough. We cannot risk the general public finding out that unicorns exist. It would be disaster for the animals. Look at the black rhino, the mountain gorilla, the Malayan tiger, all on the verge of extinction, thanks to humans.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “I’m entirely serious. As a matter of fact, I’m beginning to think we should have left the unicorns well alone. After all, they’ve survived at Whindfall successfully for hundreds of years.”

  “Yes, but Uncle, their numbers are low and they’re all in one place. If the forest goes, so do the unicorns. Without our breeding programme, they could be extinct within ten years!”

  “I shared your initial enthusiasm for the breeding project, Ailsa, and I really thought we were doing the right thing, but let’s face it, the whole thing has been a disaster. When the foal is born we shall return the mare and her baby to the forest. I hate to let you down like this, my dear, as I know how hard you’ve worked, but it has to end.”

  There was a long, strained silence.

  “You can’t mean that, Uncle! We can’t just let them go! If you don’t like the idea of releasing unicorns on to the island, then why don’t we consider forming a permanent herd at Langcroft? The unicorns would be an amazing tourist attraction. I can go back to Whindfall, collect some more. Our financial troubles would be over.”

  “This project was not about making money, my dear.” There was a slight rebuke in the Laird’s voice. “It was all for the benefit of the unicorns.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “There are no buts.” The old man’s voice was firm. “Our mission was to provide a safe environment in which these creatures could breed and, ultimately, to return them to the wild. Both Alex and I have come to the decision that the plan is flawed, and, after all, it is Alex who will have the long-term responsibility. I’m sorry my dear, but it’s over. That little foal will be our legacy. We shall name it Langcroft.”

  There was another long silence, broken by Ailsa’s voice, unexpectedly brisk and upbeat.

  “Of course, Uncle. You’re the boss. But look, you’re shivering! Go back up to the house. It’s really late and we’ve both got lots to do tomorrow, preparing for the birth.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I’m exhausted. I’m getting too old for the burden of managing this estate. What would I do without you and Ale
x?”

  The old man walked across the lawn. Ailsa stood, staring into the shed.

  “Maybe we should go back?” Lewis whispered.

  “Not yet.” There was a stubborn note in Rhona’s voice.

  “Rhona, the Laird just said he’s going to let the mare and her foal go free. We don’t need to do anything more.”

  “I don’t trust that lassie as far as I could throw her.”

  Lewis gripped Rhona’s arm. Ailsa was talking to herself, her voice an angry hiss.

  “So you and Alex have come to a decision, have you? And neither of you thought to ask me? So typical.”

  There was a short silence, then Lewis heard the metallic click of the bolt. The tall figure of Ailsa stepped forward into the shed.

  The unicorn’s ears went back until they were almost flat against her head. The mare struggled to get to her feet. She shook her head violently, and her tail swished to and fro. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she squealed, a high, bloodcurdling sound.

  “What’s happening?” whispered Rhona, but Lewis couldn’t answer. His heart was pounding.

  “Shut up, you stupid beast.” Ailsa’s voice was cold as winter. “If my uncle thinks I’m going to let a fortune slip through my fingers, he’s a bigger idiot than Alex. I’m going to remove your horn, and the foal’s. I can tell them you died giving birth. Terribly sad, but these things happen.”

  Horrified, Lewis leaned further forward. He knocked against a rake and it thudded to the ground. Ailsa spun round.

  At that moment, the unicorn kicked out with her back legs. Her huge hooves crashed against the walls of the shed. Then she reared, coming down hard on the trailing chain. Ailsa raised her arms above her head, trying to protect herself from the unicorn’s flailing hooves. Caught between the unicorn and the side wall, she dropped her torch. It crashed onto the floor and went out.

  “We need to get out of here while it’s dark. Let’s go,” Lewis whispered.

  He and Rhona shrugged off the tarpaulin and crept away from the shed, towards the gate. They clambered over and started to run as they reached the shelter of the trees. Behind him, Lewis heard a series of thuds, loud curses and the unicorn’s furious snorts.