The Mystic helped the three friends carry their sacks into the entrance of the cave she called home and then the four of them got the horses set up in her small, crudely made stable.
“The horses will be safe here.” She smiled as she patted Aimhe’s neck. “The evil things fear horses, and especially unicorns, since they are creatures of good magic. Phrym is more than enough protection for all three.”
Jahrra stiffened as the memory of their attack came flooding back. It was a unicorn that had drawn the wolves out to begin with. It was a unicorn that they had butchered. Suddenly she wasn’t so sure about leaving Phrym and the other horses outside. She looked at her friends and it appeared they were thinking along the same lines as she was.
“Denaeh,” Jahrra said, her voice tentative, “before they came after us, those wolves took down a unicorn.”
For the first time since Jahrra had met the Mystic, she looked truly shocked.
“Surely not!” she breathed. “A unicorn? In Oescienne? Your eyes were playing tricks on you!”
“No, we all saw it,” Gieaun insisted.
Denaeh started walking back around her small hill, making her way to the cave entrance. The friends traded worried glances, then started off after her in the semi-dark of dusk, the girls helping Scede limp along.
“Denaeh, if those wolves come back,” Jahrra paused for a moment. “Phrym and Bhun and Aimhe,” she continued.
“You did not see a unicorn,” Denaeh said with such certainty and authority that Jahrra stopped what she had been saying. “Oescienne is inhabited by many creatures, several of which look like what most people imagine to be unicorns. The horses are safe, and if anything should enter my hollow, Milihn will tell me.”
Jahrra opened her mouth to argue, but Scede’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. She looked back at him and it was only the dark look in his eyes and the slight shake of his head that told her not to argue. She wondered why Denaeh was so adamant about not believing what they saw, but for some unknown reason, she started questioning her own beliefs. Maybe Denaeh is right; maybe it wasn’t a unicorn . . . but I was so sure! And its cry, and Gieaun and Scede had seen it!
“Come children!” Denaeh called from her dark cave. “It grows darker by the minute and Scede’s leg needs tending!”
A slight breeze, brought on by the storm, rustled the branches above. The sound was soothing and comforting, and all of a sudden Jahrra’s recollection of the attack on the edge of the Cohn Forest seemed to fade around the edges. It didn’t feel like a memory any longer, but more like a dream. She blinked and looked at her friends and was surprised at their blank expressions. Jahrra wondered about it for a few moments more, but the Mystic’s voice came to them again.
“I need help with the fire, for if you want supper it will have to cook first!”
All three children blinked and started. Denaeh’s moss-draped silhouette appeared at her cave door.
“I would have thought you’d all fallen down dead!” she stated.
“Sorry,” Jahrra grumbled. And the three of them made their way into the shelter of the cave.
Scede helped Denaeh get a fire going in the fireplace despite his injury, and before long the flames were crackling and the three of them were lying in front of the blaze on a great big quilt. Denaeh found some healing herbs for Scede’s pained leg before settling herself in a rickety rocking chair fashioned from wild tree limbs and covered in multi-colored cushions sewn together from scraps of old cloth. They ate a dinner of wild rabbit stew and a boiled type of root from Denaeh’s garden that was actually quite good.
As the fire died down and the wind and rain began to gently stir the woods, Denaeh told the children some more stories about the Deepening Twilight and how Ethoes sent the owls to guard the good spirits from the evil ones. Jahrra figured she would be too frightened to sleep from the tales Denaeh told and from the memory of the events of that morning, but the tuber they’d eaten must’ve had some sort of calming element in it. She could feel the first waves of drowsiness begin to wash over her before too long, and soon she was dozing off and drifting into a deep sleep, aided by the lull of Denaeh’s soothing voice and the rhythm of the wind and rain outside.
Jahrra opened her eyes and saw that the rain had stopped and a mist had settled over the quiet wood. She sat up and looked around groggily. Funny, she couldn’t remember falling asleep outside of Denaeh’s cave. She clambered up in order to get a better look and quickly clasped her arms around her body as she became engulfed with the still, chill air. She stood, half crouching and curled in upon herself and stared around at the foggy scene surrounding her. The Mystic’s cave was nowhere to be found and she was in a wood that looked nothing like the wood enveloping the Black Swamp.
Where am I? Jahrra thought as she tried to remember this strangely familiar place. Then it struck her. She hadn’t been here in so long that she had almost forgotten. It was her recurring dream, and she was standing in an orchard of fruit trees in perfect, straight rows. She looked down at herself and saw that she was wearing her long, white nightgown and not the clothes she had fallen asleep in. The air felt unusually icy, not warm and humid the way it should feel after a summer rainstorm, and the ground, and her gown for that matter, was dry.
Jahrra glanced instinctively towards the edge of the orchard where the hooded figure always stood. She waited for a short while, like she always did, and after a few minutes he stepped quietly out of the looming forest and into the realm of the orderly trees. Her heart skipped a beat and then quickened, for she hadn’t seen him in so long. His hood completely covered his head and even though she had no reason to believe so, she felt his concerned eyes watching her from behind the shadow of that hood.
Usually the dream ended here, but this time it dragged on, and finally when Jahrra felt herself turning away and seeking the world of the wakeful, something caught the corner of her eye. She immediately became alert and turned towards the source of movement and was very surprised to spot another hooded figure moving through the orchard behind her. This figure was much shorter than the more familiar green clad one, but his face was also completely covered. The brilliant scarlet cloak he wore tugged at the heavy mist, creating small eddies across the ground as he moved through the lines of trees.
At first Jahrra thought that the red figure hadn’t noticed the green one, but then, suddenly, the scarlet cloaked intruder turned and headed straight for the far end of the orchard. Jahrra stared in silent horror as the red-robed trespasser reached up with gloved hands and grabbed at the edges of the green man’s hood, trying desperately to pull the cloth back to reveal the face beneath it.
NO! Jahrra tried to scream as she watched the scene unfold before her. She couldn’t tell why, but she didn’t want that face made known. She didn’t know if it was because she feared what might be revealed or if she felt so close to her familiar visitor that she didn’t want any harm to come to him. She was sure that this other person meant to do harm.
Jahrra made up her mind quickly to help her friend, but as she tried desperately to run, her feet stayed glued in place. Her mouth kept forming the word ‘no’ in terrifyingly silent gasps, but try as she might, she couldn’t make a sound. Jahrra struggled and struggled until her legs ached. Her heart was hammering against her ribs and panic swelled up in her throat. The green figure was much bigger and stronger than the smaller red one, but the new intruder refused to relent on his attack. The two of them fought back and forth, the tiny trespasser tearing and clawing at the other as he desperately held the hood in place.