How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Five

Princess Cariolta looked around the room in a silent stupor. It was still filled with smoke and feathers. The vibrant silk tapestries which lined the walls smoldered delicately. Gossamer scarves lay strewn about the room, intertwined with splintered wood and shattered pottery. The elaborate mosaic on the domed ceiling glittered through the haze with its shameful depictions of mythical beasts engaged in acts of violence and unlikely intercourse. Her companions stood about like the living dead, trying to gather enough energy to feel the pain that they were in. In the centre of the room lay the headless corpse of a strangely painted lizard the size of a man and in the corner laid an emaciated naked boy who appeared to have just discovered his own genitals and was poking at them with great curiosity.

The memories of the last few minutes washed over her. She had just affected a brazen escape from the world's most terrifying dungeon, which was immediately followed by an even more brazen rescue attempt from the world's most terrifying gaoler. They had done this without a single casualty, all due to the help of a boy who appears to have no idea what had transpired.

She began to giggle. She dropped to her knees and giggled hysterically. Kish joined her moments later, and a half mad cackle erupted from Prag. They gasped for breath and fell back to the floor as their minds collectively tried to cope with the madness of the whole thing. The laughter stopped abruptly, though, as Kazé toppled to the ground.

His thick dark fur had masked the severity of his wound. The exhilaration of combat had kept him alert and fighting. With the waning sense of danger, the desperation that had kept him going was pouring out of his hind leg as quickly as the blood. He pawed pitifully at Cailo's darkened cloak for a moment, stumbled and fell. His thoughts drifted to his family, of the cool night air whipping through his fur as they dashed together across the plains, into the night. Then he slipped softly into the dreamless sleep that balances at the edge of death.

Princess Cariolta flew to Kazé's side and fumbled to staunch the bleeding. "Gods! There's so much blood. I can't even find the wound."

She was panicking.

Kish's demeanor turned instantly from that of a desperate fugitive to an officious surgeon. She grabbed Cariolta's shaking hands and moved her gently aside as she tore off a sleeve of her own damp blouse and pressed it against Kazé's flank. "Cari, I need you to hold this here while I find a needle and thread to stitch this up. Can you do that?"

"I... Yes, I can... I will... Please hurry." The princess was trying hard to choke back the tears that were welling up behind her noble eyes.

"Prag! I need something to shave some of that fur off so I can work." Kish was kneeling by the corpse of Lord Cailo and jamming her sword into his side.

Prag produced a small razor almost instantly. Though it smelled a little foul, it looked wicked sharp. "Where were you keeping that?" asked Kish, somewhat disturbed.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answered," responded Prag flatly "I'll wash it off. I think I saw a flask in that pile that used to be a dressing table... what are you doing?"

Kish had pried one of Cailo's ribs from his body and was starting to strip away the flesh that had stuck to it. "Lizard ribs make good needles. When you're done washing that, find a good thread for stitches."

To his own surprise, Prag found himself shocked and a little nauseated by Kish's actions. It wasn't the carving up of a body that bothered him. It was the lack of hesitation. She had seen a solution to her problem and was now defiling a corpse for a sliver of its bone. She was elbow-deep in purple blood and showed no signs of slowing down. He gave her an unseen nod of respect, and went groping for that flask of liquor he'd seen.