The Unicorn Thief by R. R. Russell Page B

to try to get him to pick up the pace. Emmie swooped overhead, cooing down at them as though she too were urging Rain Cloud to hurry.
    Rain Cloud showed Wonder his teeth and dug in his heels, refusing to be pushed.
    â€œTwig, can you not get her to stop doing that? She’s only making things worse.”
    â€œI’m trying.”
    â€œThey’re both impossible!” Ben snapped.
    Rain Cloud’s eyes were wide with fear. Twig could tell he wanted nothing but to run, to flee back home. He neighed for Wonder to go with him, but she whinnied her refusal.
    Emmie settled on Ben’s shoulder, her bright green plumage contrasting with the white feathers in his quiver. She pecked sympathetically at his cheek, but he had no smile for his faithful bird. Twig had never seen Ben so on edge like this.
    They turned a corner, and a little grassy clearing came into view. The rocky, weedy road faded into the clearing. A low building squatted in the middle of the yard, a tiny square of rough-hewn stones nearly overtaken by the weeds that had risen up around it and taken root on its roof. A pair of dangling, rusty hinges hinted that it had once had an actual door that shut.
    Stone posts, covered in a patchwork of moss and fitted with iron rings, poked out of the grass. Tethered to one of these was a donkey, chewing on the grass with a look of bored distaste. Wonder called out to the donkey, anxious, pleading. The donkey seemed to give a halfhearted little snort of recognition.
    â€œFranklin knows Indy,” Ben said. “He smells him on Wonder.”
    Twig slid down and stretched her back while Ben dismounted.
    Wonder hopped over to Franklin, the donkey. She danced around the animal in tighter and tighter circles. I need to find my dad. Where’s my dad? You know him, don’t you?
    Rain Cloud pretended not to notice the donkey or Wonder’s behavior until the unicorn got just one circle too close to Franklin. The donkey’s hind legs shot out. Wonder bounced back, avoiding the kick. Rain Cloud darted between them and nipped a warning at Franklin.
    Twig caught Wonder’s reins, and Ben took hold of Rain Cloud.
    â€œHey now,” Ben said. “Both of you be nice to Franklin. Merrill needs him. He’d rather have his old Lion Heart, but there’s no helping that, is there?”
    Lion Heart had been Merrill’s last unicorn, taken for the queen’s army when the herders were disbanded. He’d died in a battle training accident. Merrill didn’t like to talk about it.
    Twig guided Wonder farther away from Franklin. “Maybe Marble will be well enough for Merrill to ride soon.”
    â€œCould be.” Ben held his hand out to Rain Cloud. “You’re a good boy. It’s not easy trying to keep up with our Wonder, is it? I thank you for the ride.”
    Rain Cloud grunted his acceptance and let Ben lead him away. He shot one last toothy warning at Franklin.
    â€œMerrill!” Ben called.
    There was a shuffle-thump inside the shelter, and Merrill appeared in the doorway. He filled a stone trough next to Franklin with fresh water, then kept the donkey out of the way so the unicorn and the pony could drink.
    â€œBest tether Wonder behind the shelter, Twig. Just to be safe,” Merrill advised.
    Twig nodded to Ben. “Rain Cloud too. He’ll help keep her quiet.”
    â€œWe cannot stay long,” Ben said. “We cannot afford to lose Indy’s trail.”
    â€œJust a short rest,” Merrill assured him. “And a moment for me to think if there’s a thing I can do to help. Then I’ll give you what you need and send you on your way.”
    Once they had the animals settled—as settled as Wonder could get—Merrill said, “Well, come inside, the two of you, where it’s warm. The fire’s going fine.”
    Flames glowed in the shadowy interior of the shelter, inviting even in its barrenness. Merrill had spread his familiar