The Revenge Read online

  “Come with me,” she sang. “Aunt Agatha is waiting for you. I promise you'll be safe.”

  She turned, taking slow steps while glancing back over her shoulder.

  Damien followed.

  Chapter 31

  The Healing

  Aunt Agatha waited in the lean-to for Corabelle. The sun had slid behind the mountains hours ago, and the girl still hadn't returned. Had something happened? She tried to connect mentally, but Corabelle wouldn't, maybe couldn't answer. Had she been caught in the fire, or inhaled smoke until she choked, the life draining away from her? Agatha's muscles tightened. The air couldn't be any worse there than it was here, could it?

  She turned her attention to a long braid she was making to bide the time away, thus easing her mind. Taking the tied willow switches between her fingers, she alternated the two sides with the middle strand, whispering over and over, “Right over left and left over right,” as she went. When she'd finished, she laid it down and listened for signs, any signs of the girl's arrival.

  Corabelle, she called again in her mind. Oh, please answer.

  She fell back on the ground despite the pain in her hip and closed her eyes, drifting into a light sleep. Fretful dreams invaded her mind—flames and billowing smoke towering above her. Running through the hot, glowing peat moss searching for Corabelle but never finding her, only to start all over, the dream travelling vicious circles in her mind.

  Crunching sounds awoke her. A bear? She held her breath and listened. No, the noises weren't heavy enough. It was more like the steps of a man. But who would be out here and at this time of night? Rupert? She shook her head. He’s far lighter and quicker. These steps dragged with an odd rhythm.

  Sliding her hand down to the stick that lay beside her, she formed a plan of self-defence. If only her hip weren’t injured, she could surprise the man and chase him away. Agatha waited, her body bathed in sweat. If he comes in, I’ll knock him over the head.

  The man circled the lean-to, stopping, searching, and rummaging. Was he looking for food? He sat down, his even breaths rising and falling. What was he doing? Resting? Perhaps he didn’t know there was someone inside the lean-to. Aunt Agatha remained perfectly still, waiting.

  The sound of hooves clip-clopping on the ground echoed in the distance. Corabelle, is that you? She listened, hopeful. They moved closer and closer, but not just hooves, human steps too—light ones.

  The man let out a gasp, then fled, his uneven stride retreating until its sound disappeared altogether.

  Relieved, Agatha dragged herself to the entrance of the lean-to, searching the darkness, unseeing.

  “Corabelle?” she whispered.

  Yes, it's me, but don’t speak in your real voice. I don’t want to scare him away.

  You have the unicorn? Aunt Agatha asked. A thrill of excitement rushed through her.

  Yes. Now keep still.

  Aunt Agatha heard an equine sneeze as they approached, then the thud of hooves halting. She felt the animal's hot breath on her face, then a touch on her hip…was that a stick? She wasn't sure.

  Her hip began to burn, piercing and scorching until it rose to an intensity she couldn't bear. Then the pain softened like the fading light of sunset.

  Aunt Agatha rose to standing position. Phew! That’s better. Where did you find him?

  “Near the edge of the burnout.” Corabelle's words tinkled like music, soft coaxing, her tone not in sync with her words.

  The burnout?

  “Yes,” said Corabelle. “Phineas was there too. I think he was trying to lead him to us.”

  What a good bird.

  Aunt Agatha stretched a careful hand out to the unicorn, feeling his warm, downy coat like soft silk against her palm. The creature shuddered.

  “Not too fast, Auntie,” said Corabelle. “One step at a time.”

  Using gradual moves, Aunt Agatha ran her fingers through his hair, gently combing it with her fingers until his shuddering stopped. Then she and Corabelle lowered themselves into the lean-to to bed down for the night.

  ***

  When the sun rose, the following morning, ghostly evergreen trees blended in with the smoky haze.

  Corabelle opened her eyes, groggy at first until she remembered the small miracle of the night before. She crept out of the lean-to, shielding her sleep-filled eyes with one hand while searching the surrounding forest. Was he still there? Or had he left to wander alone, the feelings of security he'd found with them dissipating with the arrival of daylight? She circled the shelter, peering between trees, listening for the distinct footfall of hooves, but all she could hear was the quiet whistle of the wind. Corabelle's heart fell.

  “Aunt Agatha, wake up!” she cried. “He's gone.”

  Chapter 32

  The Strange Human

  Damien had fled in the night. How safe he'd felt with the females until they'd retired and the male appeared. It had to be a trap. After all, hadn't he learned from Father that unicorns were supposed to flee humans for the rest of eternity? True, these females were different just as Ali had been in the old tales of lore when she’d rescued Ulysees from the flood, but who was the other one who'd wandered into the camp?

  The unicorn had drifted off to a quiet sleep close to the shelter they’d made of trees and leaves, feeling accepted, but still nervous, though he’d been captivated by the younger one's calming words. How odd he could see the girl's thoughts in his mind, and that she could see his. Even the older female seemed to care for him. He had felt it as he laid his horn on her injury. She was good—not like Isabelle or Seamus. More like Mother and Father. It had been so long since he’d felt loved.

  A familiar pain squeezed his ribs at the thought of his parents.

  Then he'd heard it—the uneven steps of the male. Damien had let out a low rumble, his muscles tense, ready for flight. But something made him hesitate. Was it the odd rhythm of the man's movements? The blank look in his eyes that he'd seen briefly as a cloud drifted past the moon? Something wasn't quite right about him. Damien’s hide quivered at the thought.

  The male had moved toward him, letting out a low moan, his hand outstretched. His hair was matted and his mane scraggly. Damien had shuffled backward, steam flaring from his nostrils. How putrid he smelled. And why did he breathe so hard?

  The human took two more dragging steps forward, his fingers almost touching the unicorn's muzzle.

  Damien let out a whinny, then caught the wind and disappeared into the night.

  ***

  Aunt Agatha burst from the lean-to, looking dazed. Then, as though remembering her injury, she dug her fingers into the very spot where the deep bruise had pained her and gave her eyebrows an incredulous lift. Her gaze met Corabelle’s.

  “What'll we do now?” asked the girl.

  “Well, we have to go find him, of course.”

  “But where?” Discouragement dragged Corabelle’s shoulders down.

  “It can't be too hard. After all, he's red. And besides, we’ve got Phineas.”

  As though in response, the little brown bird tweeted from a branch overhead.

  “But I think we should have breakfast first,” said Aunt Agatha.

  “All right,” said Corabelle, uncertain she could eat much in all her excitement

  When they’d finished their light meal and were packed and ready to go, Corabelle called out, “Phineas. Do your thing,”

  The bird fluttered away, leading them onward toward the burnout. The air still reeked of cinders and ash, but in a more pleasant sort of a way, like the embers of the fire that died each night in their hearth back home.

  Corabelle couldn’t stop talking. “It was so amazing last night, Auntie. Red was terrified at first until I started talking to him in a gentle voice. I could see his thoughts, and he could see mine.” She swung around and faced Aunt Agatha, walking backward.

  “Well, like I said, you have a gift.”

  “And I think Red's coat is the prettiest colour I’ve ever seen,” babbl
ed Corabelle as though she hadn’t heard Aunt Agatha. “Like poppies, or fresh apples, and strawberries.”

  “I agree, but I wonder why he turned out that colour.”

  “I guess it's like horses. They come in different shades,” said Corabelle.

  “Yeah, but I've never seen a horse that shade before. A sorrel perhaps, but apple red?” Aunt Agatha pulled up short. “By the way, did you know there was someone in our camp last night?”

  Corabelle frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “A man. He wandered around the lean-to. I think he was looking for food.”

  “Not Uncle Rupert,” said Corabelle.

  “No, it couldn't have been. This man limped. And besides, Uncle Rupert would be more likely to crash our camp and insist we’re witches.”

  “That's true…unless he was after something.”

  “But what?” asked Aunt Agatha.

  “I don’t know.”

  They walked in silence, a feeling of dread looming over them. The wildfire had been bad enough without someone stalking them.

  “Maybe there is a town nearby,” said Corabelle, searching for a logical explanation.

  “Maybe.”

  They hiked until the sun was mid-sky, then set up their lean-to near a small brook of water close to where Corabelle had sighted the unicorn the night before.

  “I’m hoping he’ll come back here,” said Corabelle.

  “But there’s a chance he’ll return to our old camp,” said Aunt Agatha. “We can ask Phineas to keep a look-out just in case.”

  Corabelle nodded, confident in the bird's abilities. It would be nice to take a break from hiking for a change. The water that bubbled close by was soothing to the ears. Thirsty, she sauntered over to the little brook, took a long drink, then splashed the cool liquid on her face and hands. Refreshed, she searched around the surviving foliage, finding mushrooms, roots, and other edibles. Then she set about building a small fire to heat the fare she'd collected. When the fire crackled and snapped, she found two long sticks and carved the ends to a sharp point, waiting until the flames died to glowing embers so they could roast the mushrooms.

  They ate their meal, chewing each morsel long and slow, then waited. But by the time the sky darkened and millions of tiny stars lit up the sky, there was still no sign of the unicorn.

  Chapter 33

  The Cave

  “Perhaps we need to go into the burnout,” said Corabelle as they stopped for a much-needed rest the following afternoon. It had been a tough morning, trudging their way through the underbrush, looking for droppings and other signs.

  Aunt Agatha let out a huff of air as she lowered her pack. “But I can't imagine we could lure any animal to an area where there’s no food,” she said.

  “Unless that animal is Red, and he's looking for the others,” said Corabelle, unwrapping her lunch. She took a bite of a tuber, the lines in her forehead deepening. “Aunt Agatha? There’s something I need to tell you.” Her voice was hesitant.

  “What?” Aunt Agatha said as she reached into her pack.

  “It was Red who began the wildfire.”

  The old lady’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? How?”

  “With his horn,” said Corabelle, uncertain how much of the truth she should tell.

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “But he didn't mean to start the fire.”

  “Then how did it happen?”

  “I'm not sure. I had a vision. The others were being cruel, so he threw a flame to scare them. The problem was, he overshot. It lit a tree on fire and spread from there.”

  Aunt Agatha remained quiet for a moment as she nibbled on dried berries. “It could be we'd be in grave danger too if we displeased him.”

  Hearing the dire implication of her aunt's words, Corabelle threw herself to her knees and clasped her hands. “Oh, Aunt Agatha, please. He needs our help. It's the only way to stop him. We can't possibly go back or they’ll find some way to destroy him.”

  The old lady looked uncertain a moment, then said. “Yes, I suppose we should be fair. There are two sides to every story. Tell me about the other unicorns. Are they all that bad?”

  “No. Only a few. But everyone’s too scared to stand up to them. And there's one particular stallion who reminds me of Uncle Rupert.”

  “I see. But still, Red may be dangerous to us.” She pressed her lips together in thought.

  “But there's more to it than that.” Corabelle's voice rose. “He feels guilty. He cares what happened to the other unicorns. And that’s why I think he may be searching the burnout to find them.”

  Aunt Agatha knitted her brow as she contemplated Corabelle's words. She scanned the blackened terrain before them. “All right, we’ll keep looking, but only because I have faith in your abilities.

  ***

  Damien's head drooped, and his muscles trembled. He'd resumed his search for the herd and found nothing. No hoof marks, no droppings. They couldn’t have perished. Otherwise, he would have seen skeletons, and there hadn’t been any.

  Yasmine's image as she fled seeped into his mind. Anguish gripped him, and he forced the thought from his brain. “It's too late. I can’t change anything. Besides, it doesn’t matter. She’ll never like me again anyway.”

  Damien's soul weighed heavily. He had no one…except… The memories of his encounter with the humans nudged him, giving him the tiniest bit of hope. They'd accepted him if only for a little while, but maybe that was just to heal the old lady. But suppose it wasn’t? Suppose they really could be his new herd. A slight smile crept to his lips at the thought. But then the empty eyes of the male human invaded his brain, uninvited. He shivered. Was he part of their band? He weighed the danger against his desire for love. Corabelle's pale blue eyes had warmed his heart, and the old lady had a merriment about her. He had to take a chance. His mind made up, he leapt into the air, scanning the forest.

  Perhaps they returned to the spot where I left them.

  Leaping up, he headed back from where he came, but when he found the camp, there were no signs of human habitation. Only the remains of the lean-to.

  His ears flickered at a familiar sound, a fluttering. The bird—the one they called Phineas—chirped high above in the trees. Damien's heart quickened at the sight of the creature. He waited to see what it would do. When it lifted off, Damien followed.

  He found the new camp as the sun hovered over the horizon. Phineas rejoined the humans, but Damien stayed behind. Camouflaging, he watched the girl as she rubbed two sticks over a small pile of dried grass. He cocked his head, curious. What was she doing? Smoke arose from the tinder. With the addition of dried moss, it burst into flames. Damien's eyes widened.

  They're like me—they can make fire!

  ***

  Corabelle fanned the flame that had taken so long to create. It had seemed forever before a small wisp of smoke rose from the grass. Reaching for the dry moss she'd collected, she threw it onto the burning grass and watched as it caught. Then she added small sticks and blew until the fire burned brightly. Perfect timing since darkness would soon be upon them.

  “There you go,” she said, turning to Aunt Agatha.

  “Well done. Now we can cook these mushrooms and wild potatoes.” She handed Corabelle the spears she'd prepared for the task.

  A familiar tweet caught Corabelle's attention. “Oh, look. Phineas is back.”

  The whiskey jack's wings beat fast as he descended onto Corabelle's shoulder.

  “Phineas, where have you been?” asked Corabelle, filling her hands with seed to feed the small bird. “What? You've found him?”

  The bird twittered as he turned, pointing his beak toward the woods.

  “And now you've lost him too?” Corabelle turned to Aunt Agatha, her eyes gaping. “But that must mean he's close by.”

  “But where?” asked Aunt Agatha, searching the growing shadows with narrowed eyes.

  “I don't know. Phineas says he was over there, but I don't see him.�
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  “Well, let's go find him. We'll carry a torch to light the way.”

  Corabelle and Aunt Agatha each grabbed a burning stick from the fire and set out. They picked their way down a natural trail, peering through the woods as far as they could see. After a few minutes, Corabelle spied something odd in the distance. “Oh, look. I think it’s a cave. Do you think maybe he could be hiding in there?”

  Aunt Agatha hesitated. “I'm not so sure we should look inside. Bears live in caves.” She squinted into the darkness of the cavern. “But let’s go anyway. What have we got to lose?”

  Taking cautious steps, they wandered in and glanced around. Remains of food littered the floor—bones, and nutshells.

  “Something lives here,” said Corabelle, her voice shaking.

  Aunt Agatha held her torch higher, her eyes rounded in the glowing light. “Yes, but what?”

  A soft moan erupted from the back of the cave.

  “Auntie, look,” Corabelle pointed deeper into the recess.

  A cowering figure peered out from beneath its hood, then slowly rose, his arm outstretched, his finger pointing. The hood fell back revealing long, dishevelled hair and a matted beard.

  “Corabelle, let's get out of here!” Aunt Agatha shrieked.

  They ran like thunder, the creature calling out after them as they hurried.

  “Quick, he's coming,” said Corabelle as she shot a look over her shoulder, not seeing the small boulder that lay in her path. Shin and stone collided. Corabelle flew through the air and landed with a thud. “Ow, my leg!” she cried.

  Aunt Agatha ran to the girl's side and grabbed her arm. “Quick, let's go!”

  “I can't!” screamed Corabelle. “It hurts too much.”

  The figure limped closer, his arm still outstretched. “Ara,” it moaned. “Ara.”