I felt that
nudge and felt free again to do what I do.
I turned around and saw her quizzical and puzzled look, quite confused
at this new sight. And I clicked back
into life and became a sort of salesman, trying to lead the unicorn in to a new
place to eat, drink and sleep.
I felt like
an estate agent, big reassuring smile and all pointy hand actions. Doing my very best to sell the property’s
best features to get me closer to closing the deal. I gestured towards the stable’s features,
showed her the insulation and how the shutters worked; demonstrated the
softness of the hay and its ideal suitability as a place to rest her head;
showed her the water and the oats, telling her how I would be about more often
to keep them topped up and the hay fresh.
As with
certain other plans, the unicorn seemed unsure about moving forward to
see. Her right front foot seemed to want
to lift, her leg muscles kept tensing and relaxing as if deciding whether to go
through with it. Then this stopped and
she looked about herself and, seeing the forest was still there, still close,
the unicorn stepped forward and inside.
The first
thing she did was to make a beeline for the oats for a reassuring chew. In the mixed-up world I offered her, oats
were the only constant. Then she took a
lap or two at the water and stopped to decide if the new tastes within it were
any cop before taking in a little more.
And damn straight, too, this was the best tasting tap water in the
country, after all, even more mineral-tastic than mineral water.
After that
she turned to take in the rest of it.
Just looking around to start with, seeing how big it was and what it
looked like once you were in. Then she
walked out of the stable and my heart leapt into my mouth. But as I heard her walk around the outside,
stopping to look more closely every so often, it began to drop back into
place. Finally clonking back when the
unicorn re-entered and began to walk around the inside, first up to the trough
end, then across to the far wall. Her way back was cut short, however, when she
suddenly noticed the feel of the hay brushing up against her leg.
The
unicorn’s nose was lowered to a taller pile and she felt the hay, rubbing cheek
up against it. Then a little went up her
nose, tickled it and made her sneeze.
But she seemed to like this and giggled before nestling down in the hay
for the first time.
I sat out
in the clearing and watched as she lay down and enjoyed herself, wriggling her
stomach about in the hay and blowing loose strands about. After an hour or so, I went to the van to
get the porridge. It took an hour to get
there, load the supplies into the cart and wheel it all to the clearing. And she was still there, still cosy, still
happy.
I built a
fire and slowly made the porridge. When
the steam started to rise from the milk and filled the unicorn’s nostrils, she
emerged from the stable. The unicorn
walked towards me and sat down on the other side of the cauldron just like she
had for the ‘Mr Tumnus Plan’ and watched with interest as I busied myself with
the porridge, working to get it just right.
Once cooked
and cooled a little, I spooned us both a bowl and began to eat mine
immediately. The unicorn was still a little cautious and watched me eat between
sniffs and furtive glances at her own bowl.
When I had finished she seemed to become more satisfied and after again
looking about at the forest surrounding us, the unicorn took her first taste of
porridge. Baring her teeth, her lowered
her mouth and bit a taster of the oaty mush.
The unicorn then brought her head back up again and sat chewing the
porridge. She swallowed it, licked her
lips, and her head dove back down to eat much more hungrily. Within a minute she was nudging my arm for
more.
And so it
began. And went on for many weeks, and
months even. At the start I came to the
clearing both days at the weekend and then again at least two evenings during
the week, rain or shine. Upon my arrival
for each visit the unicorn would not be there but she soon started to get to
the clearing more quickly each time I was there.
And every
time I went out there I would top up the oats and water, change the hay and, on
the weekend visits, make up some porridge.
The evening visits were always very quick in and out jobs and,
sometimes, I wouldn’t even see the unicorn.
After about
five weeks of this I decided it was all going so well that I quit my job and
went out there full time. I made a camp
at the edge of the forest and drove the van in a little way to sleep in, had a
fire close by each night. It was only
moved to get more supplies of either food for us both, or, most often, more
water for the unicorn , she was a thirsty one.
And once I moved in, I made us both porridge each morning and
evening. And gradually she began to
sleep in the stable.
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