Chapter 3
The bird did manage to lead her to water, but it wasn’t much. Merely a puddle, really. It was enough for her to soak a cloth and wipe down her hair a couple of times. Even so, she thanked the bird for this much at least.
Her wanderings over the next several days brought her to a road which she followed for several miles to a gas station. Of course, there wasn’t a public bathroom in there. The electricity had been cut off at some point, making the refrigerators warm and the interior of the building chillier than it might have been had there been a living clerk.
Mila poked around carefully. She did find some blood stains, but had the clerk been zombified or eaten, there was no sign of him. The creatures tended to wander about aimlessly until sensing the presence of life. Once they caught a glimpse of something with their milky eyes, or smelled the warm coursing of blood in the living, they swarmed.
She was able to score a few more sticks of jerky from a broken jar, but the place had clearly seen other looters. A couple dusty bags of chips had a disturbing scent like chlorine and all name brands had been thoroughly scoured. All she was able to find was a lonely can of corned beef and some warm sodas of a brand she’d never heard of that came in flavors like peach and strawberry.
The smell of rot and old gasoline made it hard for her to smell around any dangers so she started back toward trees. She was only steps away when she felt a shiver run up her spine. Something was looking at her.
Her first assumption when she saw a spark of red eyes was that Jed was making good on his promise of seeing her again. Though he hadn’t stated that they’d be moving in the same direction and he could out-distance her by miles without tiring, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he really did seek her out again just for kicks.
But the red eyes were much higher than Jed’s had been. He’d been nearly the same height. These were a foot higher and not shaped like a human. Her hand inched toward her sword, readying to draw it when the eyes came a little closer.
Mila’s heart gave a sharp twinge when she saw the creature step out from the trees. It was so painfully beautiful, she wanted to cry. It melted from the dark shadowy leaves into the glorious form of a horse, stepping toward her completely soundless with fluid movements.
The creature was tall and magnificently proud, but also oddly delicate like a deer. With a horse, you usually needed to be fearful of the hooves, careful not to get kicked or stamped on. This creature’s hooves were deceptively delicate when compared to the horn atop its head.
Mila’s legs shook. It took all that she had to not to drop to her knees and sob. She could hardly believe it. It had been centuries since she’d last seen a unicorn and here she had simply stumbled upon it. Tears were pricking her eyes, but she didn’t dare blink, lest the creature disappear. Unfortunately, eye contact was the wrong move.
Without so much as a paw to the ground to show its mood, it charged. Its head lowered, ready to skewer her on its grooved horn. Mila stood her ground. What a glorious way to die it would be.
The unicorn came to an abrupt stop, its motion ceasing as quickly as it had started. Now clear of the shelter of the trees, its coat was quickly lightening. Becoming cloudlike under the light of a clear day. A small dribble of blood welled at Mila’s throat where the very tip of the horn had just grazed the flesh. She had succeeded in keeping herself standing, though her breath came out in with a shudder.
The unicorn pulled back a step, its intimidating red eyes faded into a light sky blue. It made a little chuffing sound. Mila blinked then, the tears running down her cheeks. Slowly, she slid her bag off her shoulders and reached it for the jerky.
She carefully unwrapped it and extended it toward the unicorn. It took the offering graciously and she beamed so hard that her cheeks hurt. She knew that if she’d offended it, it would have killed her instantly. Few alive or undead knew that unicorns were terribly fickle creatures.
An offended unicorn would strike down its offender without hesitation. Many-a lives had been taken by testy unicorns in days long passed. Humans had often kept stories of their incredible beauty, forgetting in retellings how dangerous they could be. More deadly than any simple wild horse by a long shot.
Mila wouldn’t have complained even if it had run her through. She was gratified by that fact it had deemed her worthy enough of witnessing it. Tempting fate, she slipped off one of her leather gloves and reached out her hand. With the very tips of her fingers, she brushed the velvety soft nose.
The unicorn made a noise that was more like a bleat than a whinny. She thought maybe she had gone too far, but its head dipped toward her bag. It simply wanted more jerky.
It didn’t matter if Mila went hungry. She would happily starve to keep this creature in view for any length of time. She emptied her meager stash to it, wishing she had more to give. She hadn’t even realized she’d begun to make sound, a soft crooning from her throat like song, but its ears moved forward, listening, its body relaxing.
She thought it would abandon her when the meat ran out, but it stayed nearby. When it retreated to the shade of the trees once more, she was certain her time with it had run out. She was pleased then when she began to walk once more, it followed.
It moved like it was simply drifting with the breeze. Its fur changed with the light, shifting between grey to black as the shadows lengthened throughout the hours. It was almost like a chameleon and she might have lost sight of it entirely if it weren’t for those red eyes that tracked her even when she left the road in went into the trees herself.
She set up her camp, laying down on top of her sleeping back. When she pulled out her book to read what she could in the fading light, she read it aloud. The unicorn made no noise, but the more attention she gave it, the easier it was for her to sense its breath on the air.
She closed her second lids to see the tiny shimmer of warmth its body created in the darkness, seeing its vague outline until sleepiness took her and the other lids closed.
Nothing could have made her happier than when she awoke the next morning to the unicorn, resting next to her, its legs gracefully curled under it like a sleeping dog.