Gift of the Unicorn

1. A Hawk and a Unicorn

The cramped little bunkhouse was a din of activity as the hunters dressed for the day. Randel slid into his old leather boots and straightened his tunic, then stood up and stretched. Unsurprisingly, he was finished before anyone else.

Randel shared the wooden sleeping quarters with five other young men. They were one of the village’s hunting squads, and probably the best in Randel’s opinion. He ran a calloused hand through his short, tousled hair, trying to push it out of his eyes. Then he reached into his trunk and pulled out his knapsack.

One of Randel’s bunkmates, a muscular young man named Morris, slid up and told him, “If you actually manage to take down a deer today, I’m letting your scrawny ass drag it back to town yourself.”

“You’ll help me,” Randel told him, smirking.

Morris tried to suppress a smile, but nodded and rolled his eyes.

“So,” another guy began, “The witch says that it’s a good week for hunting. If we’re all in our best form, our squad might bring in enough to impress the chief. Wouldn’t recognition for our work be nice?”

“I would certainly appreciate a reward for all our hard work,” someone else added.

Randel grunted, but didn’t reply. The thought of having to stand before the chief filled him with dread. Given a chance, he’d gladly pass.

“Don’t you still need your bow?” Morris asked, taking his own off of the wall.

Randel swore quietly.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, “I’ll see you guys later.”

He stepped outside into the fresh air of the little wood and cobblestone town. There were a lot of smells in the air: from the smokehouse, the tannery, the fishery, and so on. People passed by, talking amongst themselves. Far off, Randel could hear the sound of clinking from the blacksmith.

Rohesia’s little two-room house was on the outskirts of town. The bunkhouse was actually bigger, but she had the fortune of living alone. Or was it misfortune? Randel had never had the opportunity to find out for himself. Like most unmarried people in the village, he lived out of a bunkhouse and ate at the communal dining hall with large crowds.

“Ro?” he asked, knocking on the door, “Can I come in?”

“About time!”

After a moment, the door opened. A lean and strong, slightly older woman with thick, oily hair was glaring at Randel. Randel gulped.

“Get inside,” Rohesia said, pulling him by the arm.

It was a nice home. Across the walls were hanging antlers and bows varying in age and size. Some of the weapons were, from experience, too heavy for short, scrawny Randel or even Morris. But Rohesia was strong enough to at least demonstrate how to carry and fire them, if only for a short time. Randel had always suspected that Rohesia only had them for bragging rights.

Rohesia was the main instructor for all the hunters in the village. But she was also the leader of Randel’s own hunting squad. Randel had always looked up to her, and was so grateful to get to work closely with her.

“Here you go,” Rohesia said, placing Randel’s bow into his hands, “You need to learn how to repair your own weapon, though. I’m serious about this.”

“I know, and I promise I will,” Randel insisted.

“You’re a good hunter,” Rohesia reminded him, “You’re strong, even physically for how scrawny you are, but you need to keep pushing yourself or you’re not going anywhere.”

Randel nodded, hoping that she couldn’t see the blush he was feeling. Sometimes Rohesia sounded too much like Randel’s father for him to be comfortable around her. It certainly wasn’t as bad as when his father chewed him out, though, if only because Randel knew that Rohesia actually liked him.

Rohesia opened her mouth to say more, but a knock at the door interrupted her. She raised a finger to indicate Randel should wait. Then she walked over to open the door, revealing a woman covered in freckles and holding a small paper package.

“Ma’am, I’m here to deliver Aldith’s package,” the stranger said softly.

“Of course. Thank you.”

Rohesia took the package and headed off to her other room, leaving the door open. For a moment, Randel was alone with the young woman. He smiled at her, and she nodded briefly back at him. The tension was thankfully broken when Rohesia returned carrying another small paper package.

“To show my thanks,” she said, handing the package to the stranger, “Give Aldith my regards.”

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The young woman nodded and skittered away.

Once they were alone again, Rohesia took one of her bows down from the wall.

Turning to Randel, she said, “We’ll talk more later. We have to go now or else we’ll be late.”

“Right.”

Randel envied that Rohesia had a place of her own that she didn’t even have to share with a spouse. He’d love to have a place of his own one day, if only so that he didn’t have to bear the discomfort of changing in front of a bunch of other men or dealing with the smell of their collective sweat all summer. Unfortunately, in a walled community, space was a luxury that you had to earn. Ro had an important job; Randel was just a hunter with no real aspirations.

“Let’s go.”

Randel quietly followed Rohesia toward the edge of town. It wasn’t an awkward silence like he had around his father. But it was the silence between a mentor and pupil rather than between two friends. He always felt a little small around Rohesia.

Along the way, the two passed by a large open space where one of the village wells was sitting. A group of young boys had gathered and were wrestling. Randel couldn’t help but smile as memories of his own childhood came back to him. Then one of the boys got off of one of the long-haired kids to reveal that they were wearing a dress and had a ribbon in their hair. There was a girl playing with the group of boys.

Randel’s smile faltered. Why did that bother him? It shouldn’t. Growing up, he’d played in groups that had girls in them. In fact, he sometimes gravitated towards playing with groups of girls specifically. Why did it bother him to see it happening in front of him now?

“Randel, don’t slow down!” Rohesia barked, snapping him out of his trance.

Rohesia led Randel out of the town gate nearest to the forest. There were a few scattered wooden buildings on this side of the palisade wall. The most important of these buildings for Randel and Rohesia was what could charitably be called a hunting cabin, where the rest of Randel’s squad was already gathered in front of.

“Grab a quiver,” Rohesia reminded Randel.

He darted inside the little hut to pick one of the remaining quivers. Randel stuffed it full of arrows, while outside Rohesia cleared her throat and started her morning pep talk. It honestly brought a smile to his face.

“Alright, gentlemen,” she began, “It’s spring again, and all indications are that this is going to be a good year for hunting. I’ve molded you into the best this town has to offer. I don’t think that’s a revelation to anyone here.”

There were a few chuckles from the group.

Rohesia continued, “But being the best comes with a lot of responsibility. The town is counting on us—counting on all its hunters. If we do not provide, people suffer. Our chief suffers, our fletcher suffers, our tailor suffers. And if Hamon can’t work on my outfits because he’s not being fed, I will send you back out into the night with orders not to return empty-handed. Do I make myself clear?”

There were a few laughs and cheers of agreement from the crowd as Randel slipped out of the cabin, his quiver hanging from his back alongside his knapsack.

“Are we all ready?” Rohesia asked.

The group gathered all their supplies and started following Rohesia into the woods, down familiar paths. Randel stuck close to Rohesia, carefully avoiding twigs and keeping his breath steady like he’d been trained. Most of the sounds in the forest were just birds flitting through bushes and trees, but Randel kept his ears perked and eyes peeled just in case they ran right into something.

It was a while before Rohesia stopped and turned to face the group.

“Alright,” she said, “This should be far enough. Split into pairs and start looking for tracks.”

Randel glanced over to see that Morris was already standing next to him with a goofy grin on his face. He nodded in reply and they took off toward the north, through some of the smaller brush. The two kept quiet until they were well out of earshot.

“What did you two talk about?” Morris asked, still scanning the ground for tracks.

It was good that he could focus on two things at once. Being around Morris had such a debilitating effect on Randel. It was impossible to focus on the hunt through the butterflies in his stomach.

Randel shrugged and replied, “Nothing important.”

“Really? Isn’t she grooming you to take over the squad?”

“We’ve been over this, Morris. No, she’s not.”

Randel scanned the trees, hoping for some sign of movement in the distance.

“Come off it,” Morris continued, “You’re good. Not quite as good as she is, but she thinks you can be. You’re like a hawk, Randel. A natural-born hunter.”

Randel felt his face start to burn, but just cleared his throat and replied, “For someone who talks so much, your kills are as stealthy as a snake. We’ve all got strengths. I’m not better than anyone else.”

“You don’t have to be the best, you just have to be good enough to lead. And you are.”

Randel was quiet for a moment, then asked, “You really think that she’d appoint me as the leader when she moves on?”

“Yeah, I really do. It’s you or Judd, and she clearly favors you. As she should. You deserve it.”

Randel’s blush deepened and he had to look away from Morris. His stomach was in knots. It always happened when Morris started to praise him. Why couldn’t Randel keep this feeling tied down? It was only going to cause problems if he acted on it.

There was no way that Morris felt anything romantic toward Randel, was there? He’d occasionally make suggestions about women that Randel should pursue. But what if he was just testing the waters? What if he was trying to figure out what kind of person Randel was interested in?

Because, truth be told, Morris was the only person he had eyes on right now.

“You’d hate me if I was in charge,” he muttered playfully.

“We’ll always be friends, Randel,” Morris insisted.

Randel had to take a deep breath to calm himself down. It was a mistake to pair off with Morris. He wasn’t going to be able to contain himself forever. The truth was going to come out one day, and Randel hated the thought of it ruining their relationship.

He’d been too cowardly to tell Morris that he only liked men, afraid that it would make things awkward between them.

“Hold on,” Morris finally said, stopping suddenly, “I see tracks. They’re fresh. Kind of small, but if I find a group it might be a decent haul. I’m going to pursue it.”

Randel nodded and replied quietly, “I’ll keep looking. Maybe I’ll find that deer you were talking about.”

“I won’t be there to help you,” Morris warned.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Randel lied.

Morris nodded and started walking off to follow the tracks. Randel continued on his own way, careful not to make too much noise. He was grateful to be alone.

It was strange, but Randel never really felt at home anywhere until he started hunting alone. Something about being in the woods just felt right. The whole forest teemed with life and sound, but it wasn’t so thick as to be dark and foreboding. If he wanted to, Randel could lie down and take a long nap with an ease that he didn’t normally have in his bunkhouse.

“Now what’s this?” he asked himself, spotting an unusual set of animal prints.

They looked to be horse tracks. Was a rider passing through these woods? Unlikely. But the alternative was one of the village’s horses had escaped and nobody warned the hunters to keep an eye out.

“But if it’s a wild horse, that could be a good find for the town,” Randel mused, “I’d better follow it.”

Randel slid effortlessly into his hunter mindset. All at once it felt like his senses were heightened as he strained to focus on every sound and movement around him. His walk was smooth and swift. There was a twitch in his hand; it was instinctively ready to pull an arrow from his quiver, even though there was no need right now.

“Where are you?” Randel wondered, glancing between the tracks on the ground and the trees around him.

There was a bright patch not too far ahead: a clearing. Randel was tempted to ignore it, but then he saw what looked like a small burst of movement. He paused, straining his ears. A tiny sound rewarded him.

“What are you doing in there?” Randel asked silently, taking a few steps toward the clearing.

He could hear the horse shuffling around before he could see it. What was it doing? It didn’t sound like it was grazing. There was a rope in Randel’s knapsack. Randel stopped to fish it out and tie a loop. If the horse was wild, it wasn’t going down without a fight.

Before he got to the edge of the clearing, Randel could see what was making the noise. He dropped the rope in surprise. It was a stark white horse with a large straight horn coming out of its forehead lying down at the other edge of the clearing. Silver blood spilled from a wound on its leg and pooled on the ground.

The unicorn was already looking in Randel’s direction, but hadn’t made any move to object to his presence.

“Hello there,” Randel said, walking out into the clearing, “You’re in a bad state, aren’t you? What happened?”

The mystical creature snorted and shook its head, but didn’t pull away from Randel when he got close. He knelt down, getting his pants wet with thick silver blood. When Randel placed his hand on the unicorn’s flank to wipe away the blood, it started to twitch and snort in protest, but Randel was able to clean the area enough to see a bite wound.

“I think I can fix this,” Randel said, wiping his hand clean on nearby grass.

His hand was tingling a little bit, but Randel ignored it. He pulled his first aid supplies out of his bag and used a rag to wipe the wound clean. It had mostly stopped bleeding, but the injury might get infected. Randel poured a little bit of cleansing potion onto the injury. The unicorn neighed and kicked out in pain, hitting Randel in the stomach.

“Oof… it’s okay. I’m fine, I promise,” Randel lied through his tears, “Almost done.”

He took a large square bandage and applied a sticky resin to the edges. Randel placed it gently over the wound and pressed down. The unicorn tensed up and made a sound, but didn’t lash out again.

“You should be all good,” Randel said, wiping his hands clean on his ruined tunic, “Try to stand up now.”

The creature stared at him for a moment, as if not comprehending, then started moving its legs. Randel stood up and stepped back to give it some room as it climbed to its hooves. In a moment, it was standing warily on all fours and staring at Randel.

“You know,” Randel said, reaching out and patting the unicorn on the neck, “Growing up, I heard that only virginal maidens ever got to see unicorns. I was so jealous. Guess I got the last laugh in the end.”

The unicorn gave Randel what he might have called a “knowing look” if it weren’t an animal.

“You can’t know I’m a virgin,” he told the creature, feeling his cheeks burn.

The unicorn snorted and turned, beginning to walk away. Randel watched it disappear into the trees. Then he smiled to himself. This was quite an experience.

“Oh no… I’m covered in blood and I don’t have anything to show for it,” he realized, “Everyone’s going to be so disappointed. I was kind of hoping to get that deer, too.”

He put on his knapsack and sighed.

“At least I gave that unicorn another chance at life. I’d hate to think of what would happen if it’d gotten sick from infection.”

Everyone had questions when he returned. Nobody seemed to want to believe that Randel had actually met a unicorn, but they didn’t have a better explanation for how he ended up covered in silver blood. He was going to be dealing with questions about this for weeks to come, but at least it had distracted them from the fact that he had returned empty-handed.

“I’m never going to get these clothes clean,” he realized that night, inspecting the damage to his tunic.

“At least you got a story out of it,” Morris told him.

“I guess.”

Randel felt a little warm, but it wasn’t nerves from being around Morris. His body was tingling for some reason. He couldn’t suppress a yawn. Some sleep sounded pretty good right now.

Slipping into just a clean pair of pants, Randel climbed into bed and wrapped himself up in his blanket. There was a pounding in his head. After a few moments, his breathing became labored.

“I don’t… feel…”

Randel seemed to slide into a nightmare. He was thrashing, and something was trying to hold him down. For some reason, Randel’s entire body burned and itched. He couldn’t open his eyes no matter how much he wanted the horror to end.

Finally, it was over. Randel’s eyes burst open and he gasped for air. He wasn’t in his bunkhouse anymore. This was a private room with stone walls with a nice bed and a few assorted pieces of furniture. That must mean he was in the Grand Hall, the chief’s home and place of work in the middle of town.

“Great,” he croaked, “Exactly where I wanted to… what’s wrong with my voice?”

His hair was in his eyes, wet from all the sweating he’d done in his sleep. But it was… wrong. Too long. He grabbed a clump in his hands and whimpered. It came out as a high pitched whine.

Randel felt weak. But he wasn’t going to just sit here. Throwing off the blanket, though, made his breath catch in his throat. He wasn’t wearing anything but the pair of pants hanging loosely onto his hips. There was a pair of breasts hanging from his chest. Randel gulped and squeezed his legs together. There was nothing there.

He’d been transformed into a woman.

Randel screamed.