“I did tell Gieaun and Scede that I’d go in there someday, when I was braver,” Jahrra whispered to Phrym while keeping her gaze glued to the forest’s edge. With an unexpected spurt of gumption that seemed to come from nowhere she added, “Well, I feel brave now. How about you Phrym?”
Phrym let out a nicker of apprehension as Jahrra slowly led him towards the forest’s edge, her eyes snared within its depths as if she were under a trance.
“It’s alright Phrym, we won’t go in too far,” she encouraged, patting his neck gently.
They slowly approached the edge of the trees and Jahrra let out a quiet gasp when she noticed that their branches were covered in thousands of butterflies. Many were dancing around in the air all around them, their burning orange and golden-beige wings flashing vigorously like falling leaves.
“You see! Anything that attracts so many butterflies can’t be that bad!”
Phrym, who was now stepping nervously and eyeing the shadows suspiciously, didn’t seem as sure as his rider. Nevertheless, with a gentle nudge from Jahrra’s knees, he crossed the barrier between field and forest and they immediately became engulfed in a sudden, profound silence.
Jahrra gazed up in wonder at the trunks and canopies of the massive trees. They were the tallest she’d ever seen in Oescienne, and they were absolutely beautiful. Beneath Phrym’s unsure feet was a game trail littered with blackened leaves, stiff sheets of bark and fallen branches looking like the skeletons of tiny houses. Shoots of thin wild grass, imitating bright green needles, poked through the layers of leaves and bark. A soothing scent of eucalyptus oil, wild mushrooms and a strange smell Jahrra didn’t recognize drenched the air, and her skin prickled warmly as if a magical breeze flowed over it. The silent forest seemed almost unnatural, particularly since Phrym’s footfalls barely made a sound. Wait until I tell Scede and Gieaun I was in the Wreing Florenn! she thought smugly. They’ll never believe me!
Just as Jahrra was imagining Gieaun’s frightful reaction to going into the forest alone, something moved in the corner of her eye. She quickly turned her head and caught another flash of movement, the strange magical feel of her surroundings bending for a mere second. Something was retreating into the forest. It was too big to be a boar or a fox, too small to be another horse, yet it couldn’t have been a deer.
Jahrra gazed into the depths of the forest, trying hard to catch just one more glimpse of the strange animal. Phrym drew closer to where Jahrra had seen the creature, and she saw movement again, this time deeper in the forest. She thought the blaze of color was gold, but she knew that nothing living in southern Oescienne could be that particular shimmering metallic color.
Making up her mind in a hurry, Jahrra clicked at Phrym, who had suddenly dropped his fearful anxiety and now seemed just as curious as she was. If Phrym isn’t afraid anymore it can’t be too dangerous, she mused.
The semequin stepped forward, snapping a large twig as he moved onward. It was the first sound he made after stepping past the tree line, and whatever it was that Jahrra had seen took off running into the heart of the woods.
“Yaah!” Jahrra kicked into Phrym, causing him to bolt abruptly into a quick sprint.
The beast, whatever it was, moved quickly and smoothly, almost as if it had been born to slide like liquid past the tree trunks and branches that hindered Jahrra and Phrym’s way. It dashed and darted and zigzagged like living smoke, making it difficult to follow.
Come on Phrym! Keep up! Jahrra encouraged in her mind as they crashed awkwardly through the underbrush. After about ten minutes of pursuit Jahrra pulled Phrym back. He was exhausted from the constant ducking and dodging and both of them shared a good number of scratches and bruises from the trees.
“What was that thing?” Jahrra wondered aloud, out of breath from the excitement.
She was a bit discouraged they hadn’t caught up with the animal, but the realization that they’d run deeper into the Wreing Florenn greatly out-weighed her disappointment. They stayed for a little while in the shade of the trees in order to recover from their pursuit and discover where they’d ended up. Jahrra grimaced when she realized they’d lost the trail they’d been following. A sudden chill prickled her skin as she wondered, not for the first time, if all the rumors about monsters and robbers were true.
The film of magic that had surrounded them at the foot of the forest had dissipated, and now Jahrra felt nervous and edgy. After a few minutes passed, she turned Phrym around to try and make out which way they’d come when suddenly the semequin turned his head and gazed back towards the center of the forest. His nostrils flared and his ears perked forward.
“No Phrym, we have to find our way out of here before we get even more lost,” Jahrra hissed, pulling on the reins firmly. But Phrym kept on looking in the same direction and snorted with a small nicker.
“No Phrym, no!” Jahrra pleaded, trying to keep the panic down in her voice.
Phrym began walking farther toward the heart of the forest and Jahrra kept whispering threats to him as she tried desperately to get him turned back around. He had never disobeyed her like this before and she again wondered, with cold dread, what it was they had chased. After another fifteen minutes of walking, trotting, and unsuccessful attempts at getting Phrym turned around, Jahrra and her semequin came upon a tall row of thick brambles.
Jahrra stopped fighting Phrym and looked up at the wall of thorns.
“Where are we now?” she asked as they followed a small path leading to an opening in the thick wall that stood over her head.
Phrym walked right up to a small slit in the bramble hedge and peered through, his smoky eyes wide with interest. Jahrra leaned forward in the saddle to see what was so fascinating to him and almost fell off his back in surprise.
There, in a large clearing in the woods, stood a small herd of unicorns. Jahrra had never seen unicorns in her life and had only been told by Hroombra what they looked like. He’d once told her that they’d inhabited Oescienne hundreds of years ago, but had since vanished from the province. Yet here she was now, gazing upon some of the most magical creatures in existence.
Jahrra rubbed her eyes and took a few breaths, thinking she was hallucinating, but when she glanced back through the gap in the wall they were still all there. The small, horse-like creatures looked like the many illustrations she’d seen in Hroombra’s books and manuscripts: they had slender, petit bodies and were a little larger than a deer, a little smaller than a standard horse. Their necks and feet were feathered with generous amounts of corn silk hair and their tails, almost like that of a lion’s, were smooth, ending with a generous amount of that same satiny hair at their tips.
The most interesting characteristic about the unicorns, Jahrra thought, were their horns. Not straight and twisted the way many people believed, but smooth and curved back slightly over their foreheads like a bow. Jahrra remembered Hroombra telling her that this was because it made it easier for branches to pass over the horns as the unicorns made their way through the thick forests they inhabited.