I wish to find the unexpected, he thought. So that I may show Morgan that he was right to place his faith in me.
He slept, then. Under the tree. Under the stars. In the Dark Woods.
When he opened his eyes again, the sun was barely rising and he heard a deep, choked sob that came from deeper in the woods.
Whoever it was sounded so sad and hurt that it clawed at the boy’s heart, even as it made him wary. He knew there were tricksters in the forest, shape-shifters and fairies and selkies who could lure even the most hardened of men with promises of sex or love or the need for comfort until they were too close to see the flash of claws, the snarl of teeth.
He was a kind boy, a loving boy. But he was not a stupid boy.
He remembered words that Morgan had taught him, words that could cause rocks to float and be hurled. His was an earthy magic, with words like ris and thri and par. They were weaker words, but they would do in a pinch if he needed them.
He hoped he wouldn’t need them.
He took light steps through the woods, avoiding the leaves that scattered the forest floor. Most knew him by his mouth, the never-ending babble that would pour out talking about anything and everything. They didn’t know that this strange and somewhat lonely boy could be as silent as shadow when called upon to do so. That he could close his mouth and narrow his mind with a razor-sharp focus. He could move with the softest of steps, like he was not there at all.
The sounds of sadness grew louder and he almost hoped it was a trap, because the sobs were filled with such pain that it caused the boy’s heart to shatter. A trap meant that nothing bad had happened to whomever was crying like their soul had been torn in two.
There was a clearing ahead.
He moved among the trees.
He heard a quiet murmur moving in tandem with the sobs.
He took a breath and peered around an old tree, the bark rubbing against his hands.
In the clearing sat a giant of a man, head bowed, face in hands, shoulders shaking as he cried. He had long black hair that hung around large fingers. He wore only trousers, torn and dirty. Across the long expanse of his back, scars stretched in sharp, white relief from the tanned skin. It took the boy a moment to see them for what they were.
Whip marks. The giant of a man had been whipped. Repeatedly.
Some of the scars were old. Some looked newer.
He moved his hand from his face, and his chin wobbled, and he let out another sound of anguish, his dark eyes welling and spilling over onto his already wet and reddened cheeks. He looked so young.
“It’s okay,” another voice said. “We’ve got away. We won’t have to go back, I promise. We’ll find somewhere to go and I’ll build you a house and we can live there and have food and beds and good dreams and nothing will hurt us ever again.”
The boy looked away from the giant and saw another wonder that took his breath away.
A beautiful white horse, tall and elegant and… talking.
The horse was talking.
It wasn’t until the horse looked off into the trees that the boy saw the nub of bone on the horse’s forehead that he realized it wasn’t a horse at all.
It was a unicorn.
“So awesome,” the boy breathed.
Quite loudly.
The unicorn immediately looked over at where the boy was hiding behind the tree. It glared, eyes flashing brightly and only then could the boy feel its magic, reaching out for his own. It wasn’t as strong as a unicorn’s should be, but its horn was gone so the boy didn’t expect it to be.
He heard the giant of a man rumble loudly as he pulled himself to his feet and the boy thought briefly how he couldn’t be a full giant, as they were twenty feet tall, but that his mother must have been a giantess, and his father a man. He had so many questions to ask but he first needed to make sure they weren’t going to rip him limb from limb.
“Who’s there?” the unicorn shouted.
“I smash,” the half-giant growled.
“Tiggy will smash you,” the unicorn agreed.