The Merlungh appeared slowly from the lake, piece by piece,
before taking the salmon out of the water to examine it. Her eyes kept flicking up at me, though,
examining me as well.
"A fine, big specimen, human," she informed
me. "And these salmon aren't too
bad either," she added, making me feel a little nervous right from the
off. "Whatever work you want me to
do, I hope we can have some fun along the way." There was eyebrow movement at choice moments.
"Indeed... and, yes," I began uneasily, I wasn't
used to this sort of talk, whatever sort it was. "It's a unicorn, actually, the work, I
mean; a mare that I've been trying to capture and tame her for some
time."
The moment I said unicorn there was a change in her
face. I'm not sure if it was a scowl or
a look of pity, or of fear or surprise.
Or a knowing look as I gave her a brief unicorn 101. I’m sure now it was the latter. She knew just how doomed I was.
"Sure, I can help with that. For these beauties I could do a lot
more." Then that look returned
again, or a variation of it, and she asked slowly, "Why is she so
important anyway? Why all the
effort? Shouldn't you be spending your
time on a more womanly shape?"
"I'd rather not go into all that with a stranger,"
I replied shirtily.
"Very well," the Merlungh said raising her
eyebrows a little and beaming again, "Shall we get going? Why don't you show me the clearing?"
We waded through the surf, the Merlungh’s large, flat and
webbed feet becoming visible, and walked up the beach, our clothes and bodies
drying off quickly in the sun. When we
were half way up the beach, she, half a pace or so behind me until now, caught
up and nudged my arm with her hand.
"We forgot to shake on it," she said brightly. “And my name is
Victoria by the way." I told her
mine, shook her hand and we started over, walking and talking about our
different lives.
Victoria was my age and had been coming onto land to see and
ride horses ("and a unicorn on a couple of occasions") since
childhood, had been taming them since 15.
"Never a unicorn, though; it should be an interesting
challenge," she told me with relish.
I told her of myself - my job, my family, this endless quest - but I was
careful not to answer her previous questions.
After a while, Victoria asked about John, who had been
sitting in my shirt pocket the whole time, just as he did every week during the
era of animal help. I told her how we
had met and how he helped me out. She
was extremely intrigued and asked, "May I hold him for a bit?" I agreed, of course, and John seemed more
than happy to ride on this lake creature's shoulder for a while, quickly moving
from my pocket, up to my shoulder and along my arm, crossing over at her hand.
And so I walked a few yards ahead while Victoria and John
became better acquainted. We journeyed
like this for about five minutes before I realised Victoria's footsteps and the
sound of her breathing had ceased. The
day had been so peaceful and still I guess I must have tuned out of our merry
ensemble and into the birdsong all around us, both distant and near.
I turned quickly to find the pair missing. "What the-?" I thought and
immediately started to walk back along the track to try and find where they had
left it. I did, quite quickly - Merlungh
tracks were difficult to miss, they step quite heavily on land, less used to
the lack of friction from air.
They had started slowly before speeding up, possibly because
they had heard me coming or maybe they had realised the need to act fast, that
they didn't have time to dawdle.
Whatever; ultimately they didn't move fast enough.
The tracks took me to a place where a circle of trees formed
a natural shelter surrounded by bushes with a depth of up to five metres of
bushes and enclosed overhead like a small vaulted room. I found the entrance and crept incredibly
quietly along a winding path that formed part of a maze. I didn’t worry about this defence and just
kept following the Merlungh tracks that were now partially covered by a set of
unicorn tracks.
Not far from the end of the path I saw them. Through a 'door' that acted like a frame I
could see the Merlungh sitting cross-legged and conversing with the unicorn‘s
head, neck and front feet. I didn't see
John at first as I was focused only on the two flapping heads. Then I dropped my head a little and saw the
little sneak perched on the unicorn's front hoof. A hoof I hadn't noticed was missing a piece
and had been since that day I cooked the porridge.
And it all quickly became clear as the world tumbled down
around me. I could see it all, every
attempt I thought I had made, had thought I'd set up myself, had been
staged. So much had happened out of
sight or partially out of sight - Salazar charging her with his snakes, the
Magical Mole transporting her about the forest - all just smoke and
mirrors. Each set-piece no doubt arranged
in meetings the like of which I was now witnessing.
The mouse must have been a separate entity, the magic not
being strong enough for a psychic link, only a cohort. Hence their plan had now fallen in. When I had jokingly suggested the Haunted
Lake, the mouse had panicked and thought only of the Great Lake and spiralled
into setting up something unplanned before he could stop himself. (Or herself, or itself). Which led to this impromptu meet-up,
presumably a way to make last minute changes in an emergency.
What I couldn't quite understand, though, was Victoria's
change of heart. She had been, genuinely
I guess, willing to help, even if she had also tried to steer me away
altogether. Yet here she was, a quick
word-in-her-ear later, helping to plotline and direct another play.
*
I stood staring for only a few seconds before the unicorn
looked up and saw me, John melting instantly back into her foot and to make it
whole again, the spell broken. Victoria
gave me a look as if to say "I told you so," or "it's
impossible, stop trying" before seeing the hurt in my face and mouthing,
"Sorry."
And that is when I turned my tail and walked away, not
wanting to listen, not wanting to hear, just wanting to get away from what I
saw as deceit. If we were to play, I
wanted it to be on my terms.
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