Twig walked over to a wooden post a few yards ahead, where the road branched off. Two signs were nailed to it. Beneath the engraved words “Dead-End Tree,” an arrow on one of the signs pointed to the passage they’d just come through. The other sign pointed to the well-worn branch of road ahead and suggested, in cheerful green paint, the way to “Clover Gully.”
The stretch of road between the passage tree and the signs was rocky and weedy, but the roads beyond the signs were well maintained, well traveled. By who? The queen’s army? Unicorn killers?
Ben called to Emmie. A coo answered him from the branches of the passage tree, and she fluttered down. He scattered some seed on the ground for her, then took a scrap of paper and a stick that resembled thick pencil lead from his pouch and scrawled something. He rolled the paper tight and began to slip it into the tube on Emmie’s leg. He stopped, frowned, and pulled something out of the tube.
“Is it a note from Merrill?” Twig said.
Ben’s eyes flicked from the note to Twig. He turned his back and quickly read it, then stuffed it in his pouch.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
But Twig knew it wasn’t nothing.
“Go see Merrill now,” he told Emmie. “Let him know we’re on our way.”
On their way to bring him two unicorns to hide from whatever was out there, in the inscrutable forest beyond the mist, full of secrets Ben was keeping from her. Twig shivered in her shell. All she wanted was to be in that warm yellow house. Safe in her bed. But no one was safe in bed at Island Ranch. Not with the herd awake and hungry.
“Wait!” Twig grabbed Ben’s arm, just as Emmie took flight. “Call her back! Tell Merrill to come help us.”
“But—”
Twig fumbled for Wonder’s mist-wet reins. “I’m going back.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “You cannot,” he protested. But he called Emmie.
“Dagger is out for blood. You said so yourself. What do you think he’ll do when Indy and Wonder don’t come back? Just give up?”
Ben looked at the ground, and Twig knew she was right.
“He’ll go back to the ranch, looking for Wonder. Him and his herd. Her scent is there, isn’t it? He already killed one horse. The girls won’t just stay inside and let him do it again. They won’t.”
Emmie landed on Ben’s shoulder. He lifted his head. He shifted his cloak. “They’ll fight.”
Twig nodded, a lump forming in her throat. Those girls were fighters, every one of them, and the Murleys too.
“What if Mr. Murley can’t shoot them all? What if he does shoot them all? The herd will be gone.”
Ben removed the message from Emmie’s leg and dug the pencil out of his pouch. The crumpled note he’d just read wafted to the ground, but Ben didn’t notice. As he scrawled on the paper again, revising his message to Merrill, Twig carefully stepped on the dropped note. Ben turned to send Emmie off, and Twig bent down, as though to adjust her boot. She picked up the note and slipped it into the pocket of her shell.
Ben watched Emmie disappear into the sunset beyond the mist.
“We can’t wait for him.” Twig tried to sound resolved, but her voice shook.
Ben met her eyes, and she gave him her stubbornest glare.
“Here.” Ben ducked his head through the leather cord around his neck and tossed the key to Twig.
It caught her by surprise, and she had to fumble in the dirt for it.
“You unlock the door, and I’ll ride through first. I’ll distract them while you and Wonder run for the ranch.”
“Wait for me under the tree, Ben, please. At least until I’ve mounted again.”
He shook his head. “I want to take them by surprise.”
The walk back to the Dead-End Tree was over too quickly—or not quickly enough. As she fitted the key into the lock, Twig pressed her ear to the door. She could hear them—wild unicorns, calling, pawing, stamping, even sniffing.
“They’re here. They’re so close.” What if, in their moments of waiting and pacing, they had dared to brave the branches? What if they were right outside the door now, under the tree? Twig listened again, but the door was thick, and it was impossible to tell.
“Hurry!” Ben said.
“Can they smell us on the other side? If they can, they won’t be surprised.”
“Twig!” he said insistently.
She turned the key and threw the door open, and Wonder raised a hoof, poised to bolt out.
“No!” Twig cried, and Ben grabbed Wonder’s bridle and ordered her back, to the side.
As soon as Twig took Wonder’s reins, Ben led Indy through the tunnellike hollow in the tree trunk and out the door, then mounted. Indy squealed his indignation as he and Ben broke through the sweeping branches of the hemlocks, but they barely slowed.
Twig hurried to mount Wonder, as screams pierced the fog and Ben and Indy clashed with whatever was waiting for them on the other side. But Wonder was in a near frenzy of pawing and screaming. Fearing for Ben, Twig mounted anyway. As soon as she did, as soon as she let Wonder leap through the mist, the unicorn’s protest stopped. She was focused, determined as she broke through the branches and into the fray.
Chapter 35
One unicorn lay on the ground, an arrow protruding from its flank. It jerked its head to avoid the crushing blows of Indy’s hooves. A long gash on its foreleg gushed as Indy kicked, punishing it for every attempt to rise. Ben leaned back hard and steered Indy away.
Another unicorn came leaping at them, and Twig let go the reins, clinging to Wonder with her thighs as she fired an arrow. This one struck its target, piercing the creature’s side. The unicorn screamed and stumbled away, into the brush. Twig froze, feeling sick.
“Go, Twig! Hurry!”
“No! You’ll never get away on your own. Besides,” Twig said with a new certainty, “Wonder wants to fight.” It was true. She could feel it.
Ben gave her a curt nod. “We stay together then, and head for the ranch.”
Another unicorn darted into the circle of mist. Twig urged Wonder toward it, but when the wild unicorn saw Wonder, it retreated, giving a long, high, lingering neigh—a call into the distance. Far away, another unicorn answered.
“I know that call,” Ben said. “It’s Dagger! He’s coming!”
Wonder neighed a desperate neigh—not desperately afraid, but desperately eager. Twig felt her unicorn’s urge to fight rippling through every muscle beneath her. She sat up straighter, shouldered her bow, and gripped the reins with white knuckles.
“Then let’s go to him!” Twig said. Enough running, enough waiting for the perfect moment. Enough of waking up, trembling in the dead of night. It was time to deal with Dagger.
Ignoring Ben’s protest, she let Wonder run, this time not in flight, but in pursuit. It was her turn to hunt. Ben followed close behind, and Indy neighed his encouragement to his daughter. Wonder leaped, higher, longer than she ever had, higher even, than Indy. Twig’s insides felt strange and light; she forgot the feel of the reins clutched tight in her hands; she forgot the ache of her legs straining to hold on, forgot the tenseness of fear. All she knew was that she was flying. Wonder’s hooves finally met the earth some thirty feet from where they’d left it, and she sprang up into the air again in the same instant.
Twig caught a blur of movement—Dagger, his horn dark as midnight, poised to strike, leaping through the air right across her path. Wonder, in midleap, cried out. Behind Twig, Ben and Indy cried out too. Wonder swerved in the air, but so did Dagger. A throb of impact. Twig jolted. And then they were falling.
Dagger’s horn had struck. Wonder crashed into the brush, and Twig hurtled over Wonder’s head and managed to tuck her own head just in time. Twig’s shoulder hit the ground hard, and her knee struck the root of a tree. Wonder sprang back to her feet. There was a long, shallow g
ash across her side, but no puncture. Wonder had collided with Dagger, but she’d managed to maneuver a would-be fatal blow into a glance.
“Twig!”
As soon as she turned toward the shout, Twig saw the shadow arching over her. She flattened herself into the ferns as Dagger leaped over her. He landed just feet away. Wonder whirled on him and their horns clashed with a bone-jarring sound. Indy kicked at Dagger’s flank with his rear legs and Ben threw his knife. It lodged in Dagger’s side, and Dagger screamed and turned toward Ben and Indy. When he did, Wonder charged.
Wonder’s horn drove into Dagger’s shoulder, and Dagger swished his head to the side violently, slashing at Wonder. Twig desperately called her back. Whether simply to withdraw her horn and prepare for another strike or out of obedience, Wonder pulled back.
Twig leaped onto Wonder’s back and circled her away from Dagger. Indy was getting some distance too. Twig locked eyes with Ben.
“Go ahead,” he said. His bow was in his hand, and he was trying to hold Indy steady while readying an arrow.
Twig understood. Dagger was on his feet again, wavering but frothing with ferocity. She gave Wonder a running start and she charged at Dagger.
Twig leaned hard into Wonder’s neck, putting everything she had into staying attached to her unicorn’s back. She felt the plunge but could see nothing with her face buried in the silver silk of Wonder’s mane. She jerked to a stop. Dagger shrieked, and then Wonder withdrew again. With a whoosh, Ben’s arrow flew, and it lodged in Dagger’s side not far from the wound Wonder had just inflicted.
Twig circled away from the writhing wild unicorn. Ben dismounted and drew his sword and ordered Indy to stay back. Slowly, he advanced on Dagger. Twig dismounted too. Wonder had done her job well, done her share; her horn was stained with blood. And Twig wanted no more of that.
As she calmed Wonder, Twig peered into the midnight-black eyes of Dagger, and her heart skipped a beat. He let out a soft, pleading wail, and those eyes seemed to plead with her too.
“Ben,” she said, “wait.”
Ben flicked a sideways glance at her without moving his head or his sword. He turned his eyes, which had been filled with readiness and near rage, back to Dagger with a new kind of scrutiny—far from trusting, but ready to consider.
Ben took a deep breath, and he tipped the blade aside. “Well,” he said quietly to Dagger, “are we done?”
The unicorn’s eyes stayed wild and wide. Was it more with fear now, than with hunger for the kill? Ben took a step backward. Indy gave a snort of new fury. Ben turned to him and put a calming hand on his muzzle. When he did so, Dagger shot to his feet with an explosion of power. His horn was tipped and ready to drive right through Ben’s back.
Twig shrieked, and as she did, she drew her sword and thrust up. She gripped the hilt with both hands. It struck resistance and she thrust harder. The unicorn screamed a terrifying call of pain and fear and threat. Twig yelped, letting go of her sword and falling out of reach of the flailing hooves. Ben jumped out of the way.
Indy charged at Dagger, but the stallion knew it was too late; Twig’s sword had already done the job. Indy tilted his horn at Dagger, but he didn’t stab.
Wonder was at Twig’s side, pawing the ground near her, entreating her.
“I’m okay, girl.” Twig rose on shaky legs. She gave Wonder a kiss. “I’m okay.”
She hadn’t meant to kill Dagger, hadn’t had room for anything in her head or her heart other than Don’t kill Ben. Don’t.
Ben put a boot on Dagger’s chest to brace himself as he withdrew Twig’s sword. He wiped it on the branches and then handed it to her. “Thank you. You saved my life.”
Twig took the sword. She let it hang limp at her side as she stared at Dagger. His body shuddered much as Wind Catcher’s had. Then it stilled. “I don’t know if I’m glad or not.”
Ben put an arm around her shoulder. “I’m glad. I’m sorry you had to do it, but I’m glad he’s gone.”
“You gave him another chance.”
“I thought I saw a little bit of Midnight Dream. But what he did, in the end…he’s the one who let the Dagger in him win.”
Howls faded into the distance. The rest of the herd was in retreat. Had Dagger insisted on coming after his enemies alone this time, or faced with opposing unicorns and their determined riders, had the herd chosen not to follow him?
“What about the rest of them?”
“There’s still a lot of work to do. This herd will be looking for a new leader. If the wrong one takes the role, this will be all for nothing.”
The sound of movement through the brush sent Twig and Ben scrambling for their weapons. But Merrill’s voice called out, “Ben?”
“Here, Merrill!”
Merrill appeared, bow in hand. “Two dead back at the passage,” he announced. “One more badly wounded, but she managed to retreat with the others. Is that him? Dagger?”
“It’s him,” Ben replied.
Merrill took a step closer to inspect the creature who had turned so many midnights into nightmares for all of Lonehorn Island. “Well done,” he said. “Well done.”
Chapter 36
When Twig and Ben rode up to the ranch, five girls came running for the driveway gate, crying, “Twig, Twig! She’s back!”
Twig dismounted and enveloped Casey in a hug.
“You were gone so long,” Casey said.
“Don’t worry,” Taylor said with an air of even more responsibility than usual, “no one called the police.”
Regina said, “They talked about it a lot, though.”
Casey let Twig go, and she wiped a hand across her dark eyes.
“I’m back now. Everything’s going to be okay now.”
Twig led Wonder through the gate. Mr. and Mrs. Murley were hurrying, side by side, down the driveway, toward her. Twig turned to say good-bye to Ben before he rode away, but to her surprise, he had dismounted too. He shifted his feet.
Twig gestured with her head for Ben to come. She shouldn’t have even considered letting him return to the wilds of the island by himself. Now that everyone at Island Ranch knew about the unicorns, there was no sense in him being all alone.
First Mrs. Murley, then Mr. Murley gave Twig a long, hard hug. The girls stood around in awed silence, trying not to make it too obvious that they were staring at Ben.
When the Murleys released her, Twig said, “Dagger, the leader of the wild herd—he’s dead.”
“You should be proud of Twig,” Ben put in. “She killed him, and she saved my life doing it.”
The girls gasped. Mrs. Murley’s mouth fell open.
Mr. Murley said, “Twig?” and Twig blushed and couldn’t decide whether she was furious with Ben for blabbing about it or whether she wanted to hug him.
“Everyone here owes their lives to you,” Twig said, with a great effort not to stammer. “You and your father kept everyone safe—safe from things no one else wanted to think about.”
Mr. Murley squinted at Ben. “What’s your name, young man?”
“Ben.”
Mr. Murley swallowed visibly. “Ben what?”
Twig was about to say, “Just Ben,” but Ben stood up straighter and looked Mr. Murley right in the eye. “Ben Murley, sir. My father’s name was Darian—a name from Terracornus—you’ve probably never heard of him. But his grandfather’s name was Elijah Murley.”
“Elijah Murley!” Mrs. Murley said. “One of Edward Murley’s lost sons.”
“Of course,” Mr. Murley said. “Of course. Your father—you said, ‘was’?”
“He died,” Ben said quickly. “Last year.”
Mrs. Murley murmured, “Oh, Ben.”
“You’re a Murley. You’re welcome here. Why don’t we put your…unicorns”—Mr. Murley smiled in sheepish astonishment as he said the word—“in the stable and g
et them cleaned up and taken care of, and then you can come inside with us for a while.”
Ben was a Murley? What other secrets was he keeping? The note! She felt in her pocket. It was still there. With everyone’s attention on Ben, she sneaked it out. Cupping it in her hand, she made out a few cryptic lines in Merrill’s handwriting.
It’s worse than I feared here. As soon as we’ve dealt with Dagger, you must come to Westland. For the sake of all unicorns, all Terracornus, you must appeal to the queen.
What did it mean? Clearly there was more to it than concern over Marble’s safety. Was Ben going to leave soon? What was going on in Terracornus? The last thing Twig wanted to do right now was leave the ranch. But if it meant helping the unicorns, she had to go with him into that strange land beyond the passage. She had to do everything she could to help him before she had to leave the island for good.
“Twig?” Casey said.
“I’m coming.”
Twig tucked the note back in her pocket. She’d talk to Ben about it later. For now, she just wanted to be home, to be happy.
***
Twig ate the last bite of her sandwich and took a drink of orange juice. The rest of the girls had already eaten. They were all outside with Ben, except for Casey. She wouldn’t leave Twig’s side. Casey had been there, in their room, waiting even though the afternoon sun was glaring through the curtains by the time Twig woke up. Last night, Twig had taken care of Wonder, then collapsed into bed.
Mrs. Murley picked up Twig’s plate. “Why don’t I take that for you, Twig, and you can call your stepmother?”
Twig put down her glass. “Call Keely?”
“She called while you were sleeping, to wish you a happy birthday.”
Her birthday! Today she was thirteen.
“She also said your dad wants to give Skype another try today if you’re willing.”
Every ache and strain seemed to weigh on Twig at once. She was so tired.
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