by Zoe Chant
The unicorn tilted his head to one side. He had the look of someone attempting to follow a foreign movie in a language he didn’t speak, but Candice thought he’d grasped the basic thrust of her question. He sent her a mental image of himself, which blurred into a startlingly vivid impression of rain falling softly onto dry, parched ground, plants turning thirstily to the sky…
“Uh…” Candice flung an entreating look at Wystan. “I can’t possibly call a unicorn ‘Wet Leaf Smell.’”
“Petrichor,” Wystan suggested, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “The scent of rain after drought.”
“Much better. Thanks.” Candice held out her hand to the stallion. “Hi, Petrichor. Your daughter is a strong, special little girl. I’m so glad we could help bring her back to you.”
Petrichor’s warm breath blew across her fingertips. But before he quite touched her hand, a sharp call rang out. The stallion leaped back as though he’d been caught with his muzzle in a cookie jar. There was abruptly a lot more space around Wystan and Candice, the unicorns backing away as one.
A mare cut through the herd, unicorns drawing aside respectfully to let her pass. Her coat was more silver than white, and there was a certain deliberate care to the way that she moved that made Candice certain she was much older than the rest of the herd. Nonetheless, the mare’s horn gleamed bright, while her dark grey eyes were sharp and canny.
Lead mare, Candice thought, recognizing the way the rest of the herd deferred to the matriarch. She’s the boss here.
Wystan must have had much the same realization. He actually bowed to the mare, as if being presented to a foreign queen. “Madam alpha. Our apologies for intruding uninvited. We mean you and your herd no harm.”
The lead mare’s eyes narrowed a little. Her gaze flicked to Flash, then to Candice, and finally back to Wystan. Her ears flattened.
Wystan winced. “She’s not happy with you being here. They’ve kept themselves utterly hidden for centuries. She’s worried you’re going to lead other humans to this haven.”
“I won’t,” Candice said to the lead mare. She opened her hands, trying to open her mind as well. “Look inside my head. I’ve devoted my whole life to rescuing animals and fighting human cruelty. I swear I will protect your home.”
The lead mare hesitated, then paced forward. Candice made herself hold still as the needle-sharp point of her horn descended on her. The tip touched the middle of her forehead, light as a butterfly. Light flared, forcing her to close her eyes.
When she opened them again, she found herself staring into the lead mare’s storm cloud gaze. There was still wariness there, but also a grudging respect.
*You protected one of my herd.* The lead mare’s telepathic communication was startlingly precise—not Flash’s swirl of imagery and emotion, but actual words. *I am…grateful.*
“You talk,” Candice blurted out.
The lead mare’s long eyelashes lowered in acknowledgement. *I have walked in the dreams of your kind, and learned your speech. It is not a gift I relish, but it has helped me to protect my herd. I send my mind out to cloud the perceptions of any who approach, so that they turn aside even before they reach our border.*
“You created the barrier?” Wystan asked.
The lead mare shook her head. *No. That defense was set generations ago, with talents that are now lost to us. It prevents those who are not of our kind from entering. It is also strong enough to turn aside fire, flood, any physical thing that might threaten us. But If humans ever discovered our land, I fear that even our ancient ward would not hold against their machines and wickedness. So I use the talent of my bloodline to hide us as well.*
“We’ll keep your secret. You have my word.” Wystan bowed again, one hand on his heart. “How should we address you, madam?”
The mare’s long tail swished from side to side. *My name is…* A brief impression of small, white wings silently flitting through moonbeams. *Your language is inadequate, but you may call me Moth.*
“We are honored, Moth. My name is Wystan, and this is Candice.” Wystan hesitated. “There are others who accompanied us, members of my firefighting squad. They are shifters like myself, and I can personally vouch for their integrity and honor. May they also enter your territory?”
*No!* Moth tossed her head angrily, her horn glinting like a sword blade. *No outsiders! Bad enough that you have been able to cross our wards, half-blood, you and this human who shares your scent. I may not be able to keep you out, but I shall not allow any others to defile our lands. I must keep my herd safe!*
Wystan held up his hands in surrender. “I understand. Would you step outside with me to meet them, then?”
The watching herd snorted and shied, as though he’d suddenly shouted out an obscenity. The lead mare stamped a front hoof, and they settled down again.
*We do not leave our sanctuary.* Moth’s telepathic tone rang with iron finality. *Not even I. That is the law.*
“But Flash broke it,” Candice pointed out. “She went outside.”
The mare turned a cold stare on Flash, who edged behind her father. *The law has been broken recently, true. And the consequences of that were catastrophic. I will not allow any to break it again. Not for any reason.*
Wystan drew in a sharp breath, as though something had fallen into place in his head. “Flash isn’t the only one who left, was she. Her mother disappeared first. And you forbade anyone to go look for her. Not even her father.”
Petrichor’s head drooped, the point of his silver horn touching the ground in shame. Flash nuzzled her dad, love and forgiveness clear in the gesture.
The lead mare huffed. *That is herd business. It is no concern of yours.*
“Forgive me, but it is.” Wystan’s tone was mild and respectful, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes that showed he wouldn’t allow himself to be deflected. “We have encountered Flash’s mother. Or at least, what is left of her.”
Petrichor’s head jerked up. He pushed his way through the herd, ears swiveling from Moth to Wystan. Candice had an impression of urgent query and worry.
“You don’t know,” she breathed, pity rising as she deciphered the stallion’s wordless telepathic message. “You don’t know what happened to her.”
*We do not speak of Sunrise!* Moth crowded her shoulder against Petrichor, driving him back with sheer willpower despite his greater size. *She left the herd, she broke the law! She is dead to us!*
“She is worse than dead.” Wystan spoke directly to Flash’s father, his voice firm and clear. Candice could sense him broadcasting mental images to accompany his words, so that they could all understand his meaning. “But she is not yet lost. She is possessed by a dark creature, which has corrupted her body and overridden her will.”
Whinnies of distress rose on all sides as the unicorns saw his telepathic picture of what their friend had become. Some of the stallions wheeled and lowered their heads as though to defend the herd from the threat. Their horns brightened, driving back shadows in a wash of rainbow-edged light.
Only Moth stood firm and unmoved. *I grieve for Sunrise. But what is done is done. We cannot help her.*
“With respect, you can.” Wystan turned to Petrichor. “Or rather, you can. Earlier in the summer, a similar creature possessed one of my friends. But his mate was able to drive it out of him. Once it had been forced to take physical form, my team killed it. I think that we can do the same here. You can save your mate.”
Moth snapped at Petrichor, but this time he bared his teeth right back at her, holding his ground. A ripple of shock went through the herd at the show of defiance. The lead mare shrieked in outrage, rearing to lash out at Petrichor with hooves and horn. For a second Candice thought that the stallion would fight, but it seemed his equine instinct to submit to female authority was too strong. Petrichor backed down, tail lowering in submission.
Moth stared him down for a long moment before turning back to Wystan. *Sunrise is beyond saving. Even before she broke the
laws and left our territory, there was darkness in her heart. She brought this evil fate upon herself.*
The herd’s agitation grew. Some of them were arching their necks and snorting in assent, while others flattened their ears and tails at though they didn’t agree with this assessment of Sunrise’s character. A few of the older mares nipped at a group of younger fillies who were looking particularly rebellious.
“Not everyone seems to agree with you there,” Candice said. “What did she do that you think was so bad?”
*She defied my authority, our sacred laws! She abandoned the herd!* Moth stamped a hoof. *She was dissatisfied with our way of life here. She had a foolish idea that we should leave our beloved home and seek out a new territory.*
A young mare with deep brown eyes tossed her mane, the set of her ears defiant. A rapid flurry of images tumbled across Candice’s mind: streams choked with slimy grey-green scum, trees dead and leafless, a dead rabbit with patchy fur and staring eyes.
“Sounds like Sunrise had reasons for suggesting a move,” she said to Moth. “Things haven’t been perfect here, have they?”
*It is true that our talents are not what they once were,* the lead mare admitted, sounding reluctant. *It grows harder to preserve our home, with humans encroaching ever closer. But the answer is not to abandon our land! I have seen the minds of your kind. You have polluted the entire world. This is our last sanctuary. There is no other place where we can flee. Even if there was, we have lost the skills to set up new wards. We would be defenseless! No. Our only hope is to hold fast to what we have now. I will do whatever it takes to protect our land.*
“We will help you in any way we can. I understand your reasons for caution. My kind, shifters, also struggle to find space to live in an increasingly human world.” Wystan’s jaw set. “But regardless of Sunrise’s views, no one deserves to suffer as she is suffering.”
*It cannot be helped.* Moth’s mental tone was as unyielding as iron. *The safety of the herd outweighs the needs of one member.*
“You can’t just abandon her!” Candice shot to her feet, fists clenching. “Even if she was a piece of garbage—which she isn’t—she’s still a living being. You have to help her!”
“Yes. You must.” Wystan matched Moth stare for stare, his green eyes equally uncompromising. “Even if you will not be moved by ethics, you have no choice.”
Moth’s horn lit with an ominous, eerie glow. She levelled it directly at Wystan’s heart. *You dare to threaten us, half-blood?*
“No. I only tell you the truth.” Wystan didn’t flinch. “You call me half-blood, yet I was able to break your wards. Even Candice could enter against your will, although we are not yet fully mated. How do you think you will be able to keep the Nightmare out? No matter that she is possessed, she is still one of your own. Your defenses are powerless to stop her.”
For the first time, Moth looked less than utterly certain of herself. *It…it will not come here.*
“It will,” Candice said fiercely. “Because Flash is here. It’s attacked us multiple times, trying to snatch her away. We don’t know why, but the Nightmare is obsessed with her. And it seems to be able to follow her trail. It could already be here within your wards!”
The herd crowded closer together, mothers pulling their foals close to their sides. The unicorns’ growing agitation hung over the clearing like a looming thundercloud. Candice could sense sharp crackles of wordless dread and fear leaping from mind to mind.
*I tell you, we are safe here!* Moth arched her neck in a show of bravado, but her nostrils flared nervously, betraying her own worry. *Even if the creature does come, the herd is strong. The herd protects its own. We will keep Flash—“
Petrichor’s cry interrupted the lead mare. The stallion spun on his hocks, ears swiveling frantically in every direction. He lifted his head and called out again, the sound filled with heart-twisting terror.
Candice scanned the clearing herself. Her stomach lurched. “Wait. Where is Flash?”
Chapter 25
No one else was going to rescue Mama. It was up to her.
Again.
Flash darted minnow-quick through the forest. Mama and Papa had always said that she’d been born running. She was fast, faster than any of the other foals, faster even than most of the mares and stallions. Certainly faster than stick-in-the-mud Moth.
Stupid Moth, who always said no. The old mare was like a frog with a one-note song. When Mama had wanted to talk to the herd about the bad thing: No. When Papa had wanted to go look for Mama: No.
Well, no point asking a question when you already knew what the answer would be. Flash hadn’t asked last time. She hadn’t asked this time, either.
While Moth was arguing with Strong Guard and Bright Heart, Flash had taken a crafty-quiet step backward. And another, and another, so snail-slow that not even Papa had noticed that she was no longer at his side. And then she’d just gone.
They’d noticed now, she knew. She could hear Papa calling for her in her head, distant and scared. It gave her a bad hurting feeling in her chest, but she closed her mind to the herd-bond and ran on.
She’d do what he couldn’t. Papa wanted to help Mama, she knew he did, but he was just a stallion. Stallions had to obey the lead mare, that was just the way things were. Even Strong Guard—the biggest, boldest, toughest stallion ever—followed Bright Heart without hesitation.
If only Bright Heart had hooves and a horn! Then she could have knocked that snapping-turtle Moth off her high rock, crash! But strong and stubborn as Bright Heart was, she couldn’t challenge Moth. She couldn’t be lead mare.
No. Flash couldn’t rely on Strong Guard and Bright Heart, not any longer. She’d thought they were on her side, but they’d tricked her. They’d brought her back to the herd, back to mean old Moth! Turned out they were just like any other grown-up—so certain they knew what was best, so blind to what needed to be done.
Not Flash. She was brave and bold, just like Mama. Papa said so.
She was going to make Papa proud, so that he could stop being sad. She was going to find Mama, and get rid of the bad thing. And then they would go home and Mama would challenge Moth and the trees would stop getting sick and everything would be right again.
Gathering up her strength, she squeezed her eyes shut. It was hard to go again so soon, but she forced her power up and out. She concentrated with all her heart on Mama.
The tip of her horn caught in the fabric of the world, making a gap for her. She wriggled through, dropping out into a different place. Where, she didn’t know, or care. It was closer to where Mama was, and that was good enough for her.
*Mama!* she called out, now that she was far enough away from the herd that they wouldn’t be able to hear her. *Mama! I’m here! I’m coming for you!*
And Mama was there.
*Mama!* Happiness sparkled through her from horn to tail. She bounded forward eagerly—but Mama faded back among the trees, as if they were playing hide-and-seek. Flash checked herself mid-leap, prancing to an uncertain halt. *Mama? It’s me, it’s Flash!*
Flash had thought that Mama would rush forward to fuss over her just like Papa had done, but to her surprise and hurt Mama backed away instead. Not all at once, as though she was really trying to run away, but in funny stop-start rushes. When Flash moved, so did Mama; when she stopped, Mama stopped.
*Is it a game?* Flash was getting a not-nice feeling in her stomach, like the time she’d eaten all the blackberries. No matter how she tried to reach Mama, Mama wouldn’t stay still. *Mama, stop it, I don’t want to play! I want you!*
Mama didn’t reply. There was a big black cloud hiding her mind. Flash was certain that she wanted to talk, but the bad thing wouldn’t let her. The bad thing was inside Mama, making her look funny and act strange…but she was still Mama, underneath, where it counted.
Mama jerked to a stop again, as though she’d gotten tangled up in invisible vines. She was shaking all over, twitching her hide like bugs were biting
at her—but there weren’t any bugs. The not-nice feeling got worse in Flash’s middle.
It was the bad thing. Mama wanted to come and take care of her—of course she did—but the bad thing wouldn’t let her. The bad thing was trying to pull Mama away. It didn’t want to let Flash anywhere near. It knew that everything would be fixed once she and Mama were back together.
It was scared of her.
Flash took a deep breath, setting her hooves.
*It’s okay, Mama,* she said, whisper-quiet, bear-strong. *I’m coming to save you.*
She was tired enough to fall down and sleep for a whole moon, but she forced the last of her strength into her horn. The bad thing tried to make Mama jump away again, but Flash was already there, right in front of it.
The bad thing shrieked and reared, blotting out the sun. Its ice-cold shadow fell across her, red eyes staring down. Flash didn’t flinch. She looked up, up, at those wolf-fang hooves and gaping foam-flecked jaws, and she wasn’t afraid.
Mama would never hurt her.
“Flash!”
One second Flash was reaching up to Mama to make it all better. The next, Mama was knocked away by a blur of white. Flash cried out, throwing herself forward—and bounced off a leg like a tree trunk, hard enough to make her ears ring.
Strong Guard was there, blocking her way. His horn blazed so bright it hurt Flash’s eyes. She couldn’t see past him, couldn’t see where Mama had gone.
*Let me go!* she shouted at him, furious and frightened for Mama. *I want Mama! She needs me!*
“Stay down, baby!” Bright Heart slid down from Strong Guard’s back, landing right next to her. She had something in her front paws, a long shiny stick. She raised it to her shoulder, sighting down it as though it was strange kind of detachable horn. “Now, Wystan!”
Strong Guard leaped aside. Flash had a single, shining glimpse of Mama charging toward them, coming for her, coming to her at last—
Bright Heart moved. Just one finger, tightening just a little. There was a tiny pfft noise.
