MYTHIC: Winter 2018 by FoundersHouse1

Author:FoundersHouse1
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Founders House Publishing LLC
Published: 2019-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

L. JOSEPH SHOSTY is the author of nine books, the most recent being the mystery collection, My Conscience Sleeps in the Doghouse. His short fiction has appeared in Stupefying Stories, Perihelion SF, and The Colored Lens, among other places. He lives in Beaumont, Texas with his wife, son, and a dog who thinks it's a cat.

Needs of the Few

KATHRYN YELINEK

A HOT GUST of wind blew down from the mountains, making the alpine poppies and bear grass shudder. Ada Brown shivered and hunched her shoulders as she threw a handful of oats onto the dry meadow grass. Grim Reaper’s breath her husband Micah would have called this wind. The Good Lord only knew what new calamity it would bring.

Even the unicorns seemed uneasy. Of the two dozen feeding around her, only the pregnant mare she called Zoë lifted her head for a petting.

“You’re welcome,” Ada crooned, stroking Zoë’s nose. Any unicorn could lighten Ada’s heart, but fearless, affectionate Zoë was special--the first unicorn that let her touch it. Zoë’s coat shone whiter than the snow on the mountain tops, her horn pale as aspen bark. With Zoë, Ada could forget the wind, the aches of her own pregnant belly, and her worries for Micah, locked in the sheriff’s jail.

A jolt like a bee sting shot up from the ground to her bare feet.

She gasped. She let go of Zoë and pivoted, digging her bare toes into the parched late-summer grass. At times like this she was glad she was a brownie, attuned so highly to her place of home that she could sense when a stranger trespassed into her and Micah’s valley.

Zoë watched, ears pricked forward with unease, as Ada turned, trying to pinpoint the trespasser. The other unicorns pressed close, seeking safety in their herd, the wind thick with their honeysuckle scent.

The honeysuckle receded in Ada’s mind as she located the breach. At least one trespasser followed the river, approaching their cabin directly from town.

Of course. She should have guessed what the wind would bring.

She swore and plunged into the trees at as brisk a walk as she could manage. Direct from town was almost worse than the stealth of poachers who came in search of unicorn horns. Poachers had the decency to hide in shadows while they stole. Humans from town--some of whom had openly celebrated Micah’s arrest--overcharged and shortchanged them with impunity in broad daylight.

She would let them take nothing else. She and Micah had sunk their hearts and souls, their sweat and blood, into this land long before they discovered the last living unicorns on earth hiding in the valley. These few unicorns were worth far more than the fruits of any fields or orchards, and now that a railroad ran through town, she and Micah had only to defend the unicorns long enough for tourists to start coming.

She grabbed the rifle from inside their cabin door and waddled onto the porch as one of the new horseless carriages wheezed to a stop under the closest aspen grove.

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