At the sight of the Terror Raptor’s
return, with reinforcements, mom got right to her feet and took a protective
stance over her foal. The movement caught Don’s eye and his trigger
finger began to tighten until he saw it was her and not me. “Tell her to
stay still!” he shouted, keeping the business end of his gun pointed at me.
Obviously, he had figured out that I
had some influence over my charges. At that same moment, my ‘moles’ broke
ground. Immediately, I had several of them leap up inside the legs of his
thick snow pants. I was mindful to have them cling to the inside of the
fabric instead of his leg, to avoid startling him into accidentally firing.
Meanwhile, I gestured for Momma to
calm down, while keeping an eye on our two sets of ‘friends’. The raptors
were silently closing the distance between us. It was amazing how such
huge creatures could move so stealthily.
However, Eric must’ve sensed
something was wrong because he turned and froze for a second. Then he
quietly backed up towards his brother muttering, “Donnie… Don… oh Don...”
Immediately I thought of Abbott and
Costello Meets Frankenstein, only this was real life and clearly lacked the
true comedic timing of those great men. Still, it was pretty funny, in an
unnerving kind of way.
“What?” snarled his brother,
refusing to tear his eyes away from us for even a second, “I’m trying to keep
these three…”
Eric was right next to him, but too
terrified to speak. Instead he grabbed his brother’s shoulder and spun
him around to face the approaching danger.
Immediately, I had my ‘moles’ sink
their teeth into both brothers’ legs. Within the space between seconds I
saw into both their minds and tried to wipe all thoughts and memories of having
seen the two unicorns from their memories. Now they should only remember my
original lie of meeting a Norwegian farmer who had been looking for a lost
pregnant horse and that we were under attack from wolves and they had the only
weapons.
Unfortunately, wolves are a lot
lower to the ground than our opponents, which meant my two mind-slaves they
aimed their guns a lot lower than I needed them to be when they opened fire.
Their first volley wound up hitting
the snow at the birds’ feet, which was effective enough to alarm them into
scattering in a wide loop around and past us. Eventually they regrouped
some fifty yards away at the edge of the woods. Eyeing us warily, the
largest of the three glanced at his compatriots and then in unison they let
loose with a threatening cry. It was the same cry that had thrown me
before, only this time it was in triple stereo.
Luckily, I had seen what was coming
and managed to close my ears up completely, but my charges, and our
‘protectors’, were not so fortunate. All of them began to struggle just
to keep their balance, while our opponents seized their chance. The sound also broke my hold on the brothers’
minds and once more they could see things as they were. But instead of raising their guns, the pair
dropped their weapons and dove for cover behind a nearby fallen tree. This left mom, foal and me as the only
targets for the birds who ceased their vocal assault and began racing straight
towards us at an alarming speed.
Immediately I stopped protecting my
ears, while my mind raced for to figure out the best way to protect everyone,
when I realized the sound of the birds approach sounded more like hoofbeats.
Which of course made no sense whatsoever.
Just then I noticed the mare tossing
her head as she glanced towards the spot where the portal to her world stood.
From the oddly bright patch burst forth a long, stripped… branch hovering
in the air? As I stood there staring, the branch seemed to stretch to a
good feet length and was still growing when a horn, attached to a night-black
unicorn’s head emerged through opening, followed by the animal’s body.
As magnificent and welcome a sight
as the beast was, the figure sitting astride its back holding the make-shift
lance was even more impressive. Otto looked taller and more commanding
than I’d ever seen him before. Mind you this was not simply because of
the elevation from his being seated on such a magnificent animal, but his
posture was erect, and his face was stern and determined in a way I’ve rarely
seen.
As he caught sight of the Terror
Raptors, my old friend cried out, “For God and Charlemagne!” Then bending
forward, he wrapped his left arm around the unicorn and braced the huge branch
he was holding as a weapon. For a second I had to wonder to
myself how many times he had uttered that particular battle cry. To this
day I have no idea how much older Otto is than me, and he’s always telling me,
“I’ve given you enough hints over the decades, you should’ve figured it by now.
Don’t you like puzzles?”
Meanwhile, to my surprise, a second
unicorn appeared through the unseen entry. This one was followed by yet
another. I quickly realized that Otto had not only shown up in the nick
of time, but that he was bringing a small cavalry with him.
Now all of this took place within
seconds, with a fourth unicorn arriving just as Otto and his steed leapt over
me and my two charges.
The Terror Raptors swiveled aside
upon seeing the approaching threat, but two of them collided with each other
slowing their evasion tactics, long enough for my friend’s make-shift lance to
catch one of them in the side of the neck. The bird squawked and stumbled
from the blow, while crashing into its companion yet again and nearly tripping
him up. Alas, only one of them went down while the other struggled to
stay upright, but at least it veered away from momma, baby and me. Which was wise, since the fourth unicorn took
up a protective stance in front of the three of us. He too was a formidable beast, who pawed the
ground in a very protective manner.
This left only the last of the trio
who was now confronted by at least two of the unicorns Otto had brought with
him. Both were impressive specimens, powerful, determined, and fearsome
all at the same time. The pair shot past me as they raced to intercept the last
of the raptors who had not been involved in the collision. This one, the
largest of the three, had taken advantage of Otto’s breaking up their original
charge to try and outflank us. Only now he found himself facing the
formidable unicorn team who were galloping at him with horns lowered.
Seeing the danger the Terror Raptor
changed course once more and veered to the left allowing it to pass through the
opening through which it had entered. He was followed moments later by
his one of his compatriots who was desperately trying to outrun Otto’s lance.
To my surprise, Otto his steed, and
the pair of unicorns, who had come to the aid of me and my charges, halted
before the portal instead of passing through. But no sooner had I started
to wonder why they’d ended their pursuit a pair of terrifying cries erupted
through the opening, which had no doubt come from the same throats I’d heard
earlier. Only this time, instead of sounding threatening, the sounds were
that of terror and pain.
Once again my sharp ears caught the
sound of snorting and stomping coming from a large group of enraged equines.
Obviously, Otto had kept more unicorns in reserve on the other side of
the portal.
Before my imagination could form an
image of what was probably happening, a similar scene began to unfold much
closer to me. The Terror Raptor that had fallen from the collision
struggled to its feet and tried to make a sneak attack from behind on the black
steed my friend was still astride. But before I could cry out a warning,
the great stallion reared and then planted both front hooves on the ground,
while unleashing a mighty kick with his hind legs.
The blow caught the menacing fowl
under the chin sending the would-be attacker head over talons several feet
away. Before the raptor could even try to recover, the remaining unicorns
were upon him, kicking savagely until the bird ceased to move.
As I stared in shock, Otto drew up
next to me saying, “Nature has its ways. These birds are quite dangerous
predators and the unicorns cannot have them be a threat to their families. Homo
sapiens would have been no more gentle with a pride of lions attacking a
newborn and mother. Their battle plays by their rules. I imagine with time the
birds will learn to be more wary of the unicorns and the ones who do will not
be hunted.” Here he paused to stroke the mane of the unicorn he had been riding
and added with a smile, “They have ways of communicating, even beyond their
species.”
Before I could comment, I watched as
the black stallion moved towards mother and foal who greeted him in a manner I
could only describe as more than friendly. Nodding to myself I thought,
‘Yup, he was definitely worth it.’
Meanwhile, Otto dismounted. “Don’t
you think we should give them a moment?” he said.
Nodding I turned away and then
realized there was no sign of the Ding-a-Ling brothers. In fact, neither
one had reappeared from behind the fallen tree I had last seen them diving
behind. There was however some growling accompanied by yelps.
Otto raised an eyebrow. “Is there
something else I should know about here?”
Unable to resist a smile I answered,
“Well, I did have some other visitors show up while you were gone and…”
At that point Don and Eric popped up
from behind the dead tree, screaming loudly and looking more and a little worse
for wear. Their nice thick winter garments were now partly in tatters and
covered in all kinds of filth. Both were screaming their heads off and
whirling around like a pair of lunatics. As they spun Otto and I saw the
source of their unusual condition… a very grumpy wolverine had attached itself
to Don’s back. Apparently it had not appreciated their unwelcome
intrusion into its den located beneath the fallen tree.
“Tsk. Evidently they entered without
knocking. They must not have seen the ‘No Soliciting’ sign. But perhaps you can
calm our mustilidae friend down before one of them does him a mischief?”
“Agreed,” I said and unleashed some
of my mist. Within seconds it reached the wolverine who quickly it
released its hold on Don and scurried over to me and Otto. Then, using my
‘moles’ I put both brothers to sleep, while ‘accidentally’ forgetting to make
them lie down first. Unfortunately, with
this latest trauma their minds had recovered somewhat from the altered
memories. I quickly informed Otto of the
problem and he took it from there.
After ordering me to hide our
friends and myself behind a wall of fog which I promptly did. Then he stepped over to the brothers and
began slapping each one of them on both cheeks, while yelling at them in
Swedish to wake up.
“Knock it
off, man,” said Eric after a few more slaps.
“Oh,
English. You speak English. You fell asleep out here. You are terribly ill. You
look like you have snow shock!”
“Snow
shock?”
“It is like
heat stroke… but different. You fall asleep in the cold and your mind plays
terrible tricks on you.”
“You mean
that horse wasn’t real?”
“In this
wilderness. No, no horses.”
“Or the…
weird ostrich?” said Donnie.
“Ostriches
in Sweden?” Otto shook his head and tsked. “You have it bad. Here, you must
drink this to warm you up!” He pulled out a flask of vodka and poured some into
Don’s mouth. “You, too,” he turned his attention to Eric. I could see through
the mist, since it was my own creation, and noted how my friend spilled some of
the vodka on their clothes, while still getting a few ounces down their
throats. ‘Oh they are going to smell like
a distillery,’ I thought with a smile.
As we
watched, Otto then pulled each of the brother’s to their feet saying, “I can
get you on a train soon and back into town. It’s a matter of safety, you should
see a doctor as soon as you get there.”
“How do you
know all about snow shock, anyway?” asked Don, who seemed marginally smarter
than his brother.
“I am a
Fjord Ranger,” Otto bluffed.
Eric said, “My sister used to drive
one of those.”
I smiled inwardly, knowing that neither
that, nor the snow shock story, would hold up once the boys talked to anyone. But of course Otto didn’t expect it to. He was simply doing his usual thing of bamboozling
people long enough to get them out of the way.
As he led the two brothers away from
the rest of us and back down the hill, I glanced over at the only remaining
evidence, of what had truly transpired, namely the carcass of the Terror
Raptor.
The sound of our new wolverine
friend snuffling around at my feet gave me an idea. “I guess you wouldn’t mind having a nice
cache of bird meat under the snow, would you, Stripy?” I asked him.
Since my mists were still inside
him, he readily understood my thoughts if not my words, as he became very
excited. A second later he scurried back
to the log and within a few seconds reappeared with a female and two white
kits. As Otto later informed me, usually
the male does not hang around after mating with several females, but they do
visit. So apparently, the brothers had
caught him during a family visit which had really made him annoyed.
The kits from what I could see had
only recently opened their eyes and after a quick look around scurried back
into the den while mom and dad headed for the carcass. By the time Otto returned, I had been permitted
to swipe a drumstick from our former foe, for our dinner. When morning came, there was no sign of the
raptor having ever entered our world.
Even a thin layer of snow covered any remaining blood stains on the
ground.
It was another day or two before we
took our leave. For one thing we wanted to make sure no other Terror
Raptors appeared, which they did not. The second reason we stayed was so
Otto could explore the other side of the opening a bit more. I joined him
when night fell on the other side and… well that’s a story for another time.
In the end, we finally said goodbye
to our unicorn friends, who it turned out were telepathic as Otto informed me.
This of course was the real reason why Mama came to me for help in the
first place. She’d sensed the kind of person I was and knew I’d do my
best to keep her and the little one safe. She and her mate also picked up
on a little wish of mine which they both kindly acquiesced to. And what was that wish? A lock
of hair from each of their manes, which is how I will make nice with Lisa who
is a tremendous Harry Potter fan. According to the books, unicorn hair
makes a wonderful core to a wand.
“So, am I clever or not?” I asked my
audience of one.
Alas I received no answer, because
little Geoffrey who I had been telling this story to had fallen asleep shortly
after I had begun my recitation. But that’s what happens when you tell an
eighteen month old a long story.
Luckily, my tale was not wasted.
As I suspected would happen, Lisa was listening in from the open doorway.
She’d given me the cold shoulder routine the whole evening, but had
obviously been attracted to my storytelling, as well as watching what I was
doing. Especially when I held up the two locks of unicorn hair, one
white, the other golden.
In the next instant found myself
feeling like Wile E. Coyote in a Roadrunner cartoon. A black-haired blur
shot into the room gave me a peck on the cheek followed by words, “Okay you’re
forgiven,” and vanished again leaving me empty-handed and alone with little
Geoffrey once more.
Glancing at the sleeping boy, I tucked
a blanket around him and quietly exited the room. But no before allowing a
little of my mist to escape from my sleeve so he could have some wondrous
dreams about unicorns.
