by Zoe Chant
“I said I’m fine.” As if to prove it, Candice ducked around him, picking up her pace. Flash trotted at her heels, every now and then teleporting a dozen yards ahead in a brief sparkle of light. The baby unicorn moved through the tangled forest as easily as a fish through water.
More’s the pity. He’d been hoping to use Flash as an excuse to force Candice to take a break, but the baby unicorn didn’t look the slightest bit tired.
“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to pretend to have picked up a thorn in your paw?” he murmured to Fenrir, who was bringing up the rearguard.
The hellhound’s copper-red eyes gleamed up at him. *Know better than to get involved in a mating fight, Icehorse.*
He was very glad Candice was too busy proving how much she didn’t need him to glance back and see his expression. “It’s not—I’m just concerned. I don’t want her to push herself too hard. And we’re not fighting.”
*Hmph.* Fenrir sat down and scratched at his neck with one hind leg, looking supremely unconvinced. *Have nose, Icehorse. Can smell. Even able to smell you, since Sun Bitch came.*
Wystan blinked, taken aback. “You…couldn’t smell me before I met Candice?”
*Not in way that matters. Ice walls, all around.* Fenrir shook himself in a jingle of harness, and fell into step at his side. *Careful don’t freeze again, freeze her out. Need Sun Bitch. Good for Icehorse. Good for pack.*
“She certainly is.” Wystan gazed after his mate, longing like a physical weight in his chest. “I do need her, Fenrir. But I don’t know how to show her that.”
*Two-legs,* Fenrir muttered, sounding like he was talking to himself. *Amazing you all have any cubs at all.*
“Somehow, we manage.” Wystan sighed. “At least, most people do.”
*Icehorse will get there.* Fenrir gave him a friendly nudge that sent him staggering into the undergrowth. *With advice.*
Wystan untangled his sleeve from an over-friendly thorn bush. “And what advice would that be?”
Fenrir gave him another of those thoughtful, penetrating stares. *Don’t wait. Sun Bitch won’t.*
This seemed rather odd advice to Wystan, given that both Candice’s history and his own nature meant that they had to take things slowly. But before he could question Fenrir further, a shower of pine needles made them both look up. Rory’s broad golden form thrust awkwardly through the canopy. In such dense forest, the big griffin had to tuck his wings against his sides and mostly fall out of the air. Callum followed more gracefully, his red-gold feathers glinting in the afternoon light as his hooves touched down. They both shimmered back into human form.
“Hold it, team,” Rory called. “This seems to be where the Thunderbird wants us to go.”
“Here?” Blaise asked dubiously as she came back to join them, the others on her heels. She scowled up at the canopy as though she could see the Thunderbird through the close-packed branches. “Are you sure?”
“It’s circling again,” Callum confirmed. “We’re here.”
Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “Here doesn’t look like much to me.”
They all stared around. Wystan had to admit, there didn’t seem to be any reason for the Thunderbird to lead them to this particular patch of forest. They were so deep into the wilderness that there wasn’t a hint of human presence. No hiking trails or signs of logging; not even a long-discarded drink can. Tiny insects sparkled in the beams of sunlight that managed to cut through the canopy. Bird calls filled the air, vigorous and unworried. It was practically idyllic.
“I don’t like it,” Blaise muttered. “Maybe it brought us out here so that no one will ever find our bodies.”
“There must be something it’s trying to show us.” Edith crouched down, peering intently through the undergrowth. “Look, is there a very faint path here?”
“You’ve got sharp eyes.” Candice joined Edith, pushing aside some branches. “You’re right. It could just be a deer trail…but it seems suspiciously straight. I think this is what we’re looking for.”
“Let’s find out.” Rory took the lead, his golden eyes constantly scanning the surroundings for any hint of danger. “Single file behind me, Candice and Flash in the middle. Everyone stay on guard, just in case.”
Wystan fell into position behind Candice and Flash, the better to be able to protect them. He summoned his unicorn up from his soul, holding back on the very edge of shift. Energy hummed just under his skin, his muscles tense and ready.
Yet as he walked, it was curiously hard to maintain his state of wariness. The peaceful air of the forest was like a blanket gently draping itself over him. No matter how he tried to focus on staying alert, every step made some of the tension ebb from his shoulders.
Even his unicorn seemed to be affected. He could feel its ears pricking up, nose turning into the wind. Not in alarm—whatever had caught its attention wasn’t a threat. His unicorn stood still and quiet, but a strange sensation of anticipation shivered through his soul.
The feeling grew until he couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “Can anyone else sense something odd?”
From the way that they all stopped and stared at him, no one did. “Apart from a creeping certainty that we’re walking into a trap, you mean?” Blaise asked.
“No, not at all. Exactly the opposite in fact.” He spread his hands, struggling to find words for the impression. “A feeling like…coming home?”
“Well, it is a nice forest,” Rory said, in a rather irritating got-to-keep-the-team-together tone. “Maybe your unicorn just likes it. The same way my griffin likes high places.”
“I don’t think it’s a unicorn thing,” Wystan said, annoyed at the hint of condescension. “Look, it’s not affecting Flash in the same way. She seems to be getting more agitated, not less.”
The little unicorn had been moving closer and closer to Candice as they went down the path. Now Flash was pressed against her leg, shivering. The unicorn’s ears flicked constantly as though some predator was lurking just out of sight.
“It’s okay, baby,” Candice said to the little unicorn. “We won’t let anything hurt you.” She looked back around at them all. “Callum, can you tell what might be bothering her? Apart from the Thunderbird.”
“No,” Callum said. “Nothing bigger than a squirrel for as far as I can sense.”
“Actually, I kind of see what you mean about this feeling like home, bronicorn.” Joe gazed thoughtfully up at the trees. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like my home, obviously, but somehow this place does kind of remind me of the woods around your grandfather’s place. And your dad’s garden, to some extent. Even though the plants are completely different, it’s got the same sort of lush wild abundance going on. Maybe that’s what’s giving you sweet vibes.”
Wystan was fairly certain it wasn’t, but there didn’t seem to be any way of arguing without appearing to be a raving madman. He was forced to let the subject drop, though his instincts still screamed that there had to be something wrong about how right he felt.
He was so preoccupied with concern over his own sanity, he almost missed the moment everyone else lost theirs.
One minute, Rory was leading them all down the faint, wandering trail. The next, he’d slowed, hesitating mid-step. Then, for no apparent reason, he turned a complete right angle to the left. The others followed without question as he led them off through the undergrowth.
Wystan had taken several steps after them before his brain caught up with his feet. “Ah, Rory? Where are you going?”
Rory’s eyes were fixed on the ground, searching. “I’ve lost the trail. Maybe if we keep going in a straight line, we’ll pick it up again.”
It was sound logic…apart from the fact that he’d just literally swerved off the trail. “It’s right there, Rory. See?”
Rory followed the line of his pointing finger, frowning as he stared directly at the narrow path. “No. Are you sure it turns off in that direction?”
“It didn’t turn off. You turned off.�
� Wystan looked around at a uniform collection of blank faces. “Is…no one else seeing this?”
Blaise narrowed her eyes at him. “How much sleep did you get last night, exactly?”
“We didn’t turn,” Callum said, with complete—and completely mistaken—certainty. “We’re still going in the same direction.”
“You all just turned a literal corner for no reason!” Caught somewhere between aggravation and concern, Wystan pushed past them all, taking a few rapid strides down the trail. “See? It’s right—“
“Wystan!” Rory shouted.
Wystan whirled, expecting to see the Nightmare leaping out at him—but there was nothing behind him but trees. He turned back to discover the entire squad looking panic-stricken, lunging blindly in every direction except the one he’d actually taken.
“Where’d he go?” Blaise yelled, spinning on the spot. “Cal, where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Callum’s usual impassive calm had cracked, revealing a degree of alarm that was rather touching, though also unnecessary. “He just disappeared!”
“Wystan?” Alone amidst the group, Candice was looking straight at him. She squinted as though he was backlit by a blinding spotlight. “You are still there, right?”
“You can feel him down your mate bond?” Rory pounced on her, seizing her shoulders. Wystan had never seen the griffin shifter look so shaken. “Is he okay? Where is he?”
“I’m right here.” Baffled, Wystan rejoined the group. “Everyone calm down—gah!”
From the squad’s reaction, one would have thought he’d disappeared for ten months rather than ten seconds. It was all he could do to stay on his feet as they tackled him as one, voices blurring into a chorus of relief.
“All right, all right,” he managed to gasp. He extricated himself from the tangle of hugs, and wiped doggy drool off his face. “I’m perfectly fine. I’m beginning to get concerned about the rest of you, though.”
“You took two steps and just vanished,” Blaise said accusingly, as though he’d done it deliberately. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere, truly.” He took her hand. “Look, I’ll show you. Follow me.”
He led her down the path—or at least, he tried to. Between one step and the next, somehow her fingers slipped out of his. He found himself standing alone on the path as yet another hubbub of dismay rose behind him.
“He’s there, he’s still there!” Candice lifted her voice, shouting down the others. She took a tentative step forward herself. “Wystan, what’s going on?”
She could still see him. On impulse, Wystan leaned back, grabbing hold of her wrist. For a second there was a faint, strange sensation, like a soap bubble popping against his entire body—and she was at his side.
“Whoa.” Candice shook her head as though she had water in her ears. “That was weird. Where are we?”
“Exactly where we were, but now none of the others can perceive us,” Wystan said, watching as the rest of the group thrashed through the undergrowth behind them. He leaned back far enough to shout out, “We’re fine! Wait there for a moment while we investigate, please.”
He drew back before any of them—especially Rory—could argue. He put out a hand, concentrating. Now that he was looking for it, he could sense a very faint difference in the air, a kind of tingling against his palm.
“Can you feel that?” he asked Candice. “Evidently there’s some kind of magical barrier concealing this part of the forest.”
“Magic,” Candice muttered, sounded faintly disgusted. She patted vaguely at nothing, then shook her head. “I’ll have to take your word for it. I can’t tell that there’s anything there. Is this a shifter thing? Like, do you have whole towns hidden away?”
“Some of us have ways of protecting our territories.” He frowned at the invisible barrier. “There’s something a little like this around my own ancestral lands, in fact. But our one doesn’t stop people from seeing through it.”
“Huh.” Candice shot him a sharp look. “Wait, what do you mean, ancestral lands?”
“Er. Long story.” This did not seem the time to mention that he was technically heir to an Earldom. “Tell you later. In any event, this must be why the Thunderbird led us here. Perhaps it can’t cross through itself. Though why only you and I seem to be able to penetrate the barrier when the others can’t, I have no idea.”
“You, me, and Flash,” Candice corrected, as the little unicorn sparkled into being next to them. “Clever baby, whatever this is didn’t fool you, did it?”
The whites showed around the edges of Flash’s amethyst eyes. She danced between the two of them, jabbing at their calves with her tiny horn as though trying to urge them to go back.
“Whatever this place is, she doesn’t want us to be here.” Wystan tried to send a telepathic sense of reassurance and comfort to the baby unicorn, but she just grew more agitated. He could feel her trembling. “What is it, little one? What’s wrong?”
Abruptly, Flash froze. For a second she just stood there, ears focused forward, every muscle tense under her white fur. Then, like a shy child hiding behind her mother’s skirts, she darted behind him. Her soft warmth pressed against the backs of his legs.
“Wystan.” Candice was staring past him. He’d never seen that expression on her face before. “Look.”
Chapter 24
The unicorns shimmered through the forest like sculpted moonbeams.
They appeared so softly and silently that it seemed like they’d always been there, and she somehow hadn’t noticed. Three, five, nine—Candice lost count after a dozen, her brain overloaded with wonder. Everywhere she looked were shining white coats and jeweled eyes; sea-foam manes and starlight horns.
And every sharp, gleaming point was aimed right at her.
Or rather, right at Wystan. He’d moved like the unicorns, so fast and fluid that she hadn’t even been aware of it. Now he stood between her and the unicorn herd, tense and ready, shielding both herself and Flash.
“It’s all right,” Wystan said—not to her, but to the unicorns. Despite the bristling wall of spearpoints threatening him, his voice was soft and steady, totally calm. “She’s my mate, and I’m like you. Look.”
A ripple went through the unicorn herd as he shifted. Although they were the same basic shape as Wystan, he dwarfed them like a racehorse amongst ponies. The other unicorns shied in alarm, backing away from his powerful form—but they didn’t break and run. One by one, they crept forward again, ears pricking up tentatively.
*That’s right.* Candice heard Wystan’s voice inside her head, warm and gentle. He stood still, head and tail relaxed in a non-threatening posture. *We’re friends.*
One of the unicorns noticed Flash peeping out from behind Wystan’s legs. The adult unicorn let out a distinctly undignified squawk, rushing forward. On pure instinct, Candice snatched up the baby unicorn, holding her protectively out of reach.
The adult unicorn—a stallion, she realized—checked his charge, skittering sideways. He pawed at the ground in indecision, eying her. Then he wheeled on Wystan. He was barely half Wystan’s size, but he set his hooves in an attitude of challenge.
Wystan shifted back into human form. A wondering, delighted smile dawned across his face. “It’s all right, Candice. That’s Flash’s father.”
Candice tightened her grip on the baby unicorn. “Doesn’t necessarily mean we can trust him. If this is Flash’s family, why doesn’t she look pleased to see them?”
“Because she ran away from home.” Wystan put a hand on her shoulder in reassurance, dipping his head to address Flash. “Everyone’s been worried about you, little one. I promise, you aren’t in trouble. Please, go to your father.”
Flash blew out her breath, sounding an awful lot like a sulky teenager. She wiggled free of Candice’s arms, jumping to the ground. Head hanging guiltily, the little unicorn went to her dad, who instantly started nosing her from head to tail, snorting and blowing. Candice didn’t need telepathy to interpre
t the clear outburst of relief and concern: Are you hurt? Are you hungry? Where have you been, we’ve been worried sick!
Wystan chuckled as more unicorns crowded around the pair. “It’s a little hard to interpret their mental speech, but I gather that Flash went missing some days ago. They’re all delighted and grateful to have her back.”
A few other unicorns sidled up to Wystan as he spoke, stretching out their necks to nose curiously at his jacket and hands. Candice found herself surrounded as well, though her audience stayed well out of arm’s reach.
All the unicorns were white, but not all of them had plain silver horns like Wystan. A handful—Flash’s father included—had a narrow band of gold spiraling up their horns from base to tip. She wondered if it was natural color variation, or if they’d somehow decorated themselves.
Has to be natural, she decided. It’s not like they have hands.
Flash wasn’t the only youngster in the group. There were a number of fascinated young colts and fillies mixed in amongst the adults, although they were being kept well back by their parents. A small unicorn—bigger than Flash, but clearly only half-grown—started to skip toward Candice, only to be herded away again by an adult mare that she presumed was his mother.
“They’re not entirely sure about you,” Wystan said to her. More unicorns were mobbing him now, sniffing at everything from his shoelaces to his backpack. “None of them have ever seen a human being before.”
Candice crouched down, keeping her eyes downcast submissively and her body language relaxed. “You’re smart to be wary, gang,” she said to the nervous crowd. “Humans are dangerous. But I promise, you can trust me. I only want to help.”
Flash’s father broke off from his careful examination of his errant offspring. He took a cautious step forward, nostrils widening. A tentative sense of gratitude and wonder unfolded in Candice’s mind’s eye like a blossoming rose.
“You’re welcome, buddy,” Candice replied. “I’m Candice, and this is Wystan. You got a name?”
