How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Eight

The women knew that they could be found and recaptured at any moment. There was, however, little that could be done. Kazé was injured and couldn't be carried around all day safely, even if they were strong enough to do so. Their only choice was to stay put until nightfall and hope.

Prag was right about the moon. With luck, the sky would stay clear and the moon's rays would help to heal Kazé overnight. This meant, however, that they would have to spend the night exposed and away from the safety of the cave. They prayed that their recent string of good fortune would hold through the night and by morning they would be fit to travel again. Neither of them had any delusions of safety, however. They kept their weapons close at hand and spoke only in whispers. The day would have been one of terrible anxiety if not for the antics of their curious companion.

The boy had grown tired of walking. Having mastered the basics, the advanced techniques of turning and stopping were proving far more challenging. He tumbled into the rock wall many times before eventually giving up and moving on to investigate his possessions.

His pointy thing and the shiny white thing were definitely his favourites. The way that the sunlight bounced off of them made him very happy. His pants were next. He didn't like the colour, but he liked the feeling of taking them off and putting them on again. His shirt was also nice. It rubbed against his skin in pleasurable ways when the wind blew.

For much of the afternoon he crawled about near the cave naked, tasting various things. He quickly came to realize that the other two that were watching him had a pretty sound idea as to whether something was going to taste good or not. They scrunched up their faces at most things. They actually took away a soft round spongy thing he found and threw it off into the woods before waving their fingers at him and making a lot of very displeased noises. He decided that it must taste very bad, though he couldn't imagine it tasting much worse than the little black and yellow fuzzy flying thing that he'd caught earlier. Not only did that taste foul, but it had hurt him when he put it in his mouth.

Cariolta was astounded with the boy's apparently inexhaustible appetite for the inedible. As he spent his morning ingesting dirt insects, she pondered his origins.  

His age was hard to determine; he was tall enough and developed enough to be almost a man, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. However the complete lack of hair on his body save the light brown tangled mass on his head, and the bright curious eyes made him look much younger. "Who do you think he is Kish?"

"I think it's less a matter of who and more a matter of what." Kish responded as she observed him sampling the flavour and texture of various colours of rocks.

"Alright, what do you think he is?"

"I have no idea. This kid could wrestle a dragon. I've never heard of anything that strong except a couple heroes of legend, and I expect that those stories were somewhat exaggerated."

"Is it possible he is like Canifor or Desidor, children of gods? Or possibly even the God Emperor reborn?" Cariolta started her query with excitement, but trailed off as she watched the boy chew on his own foot and then thrash violently in surprise when he discovered that it hurt him, like a dog that had finally caught his own tail.

"You'll forgive me if I hope that isn't the case. Come on, help me move Kaz, it's nearly dark."

They laid Kazé out in the clearing that the boy had been walking in earlier. There was a noticeable rut in the ground where he had tread. Both women looked back at the boy in confusion. A stray thought crossed Kish's mind as darkness settled over the glade. "Why do you think Prag let the kid keep that sword?"

"Any number of reasons, I should think. For one, the boy seems rather attached to it and I'm certainly not going to try to take anything away from him. Also, it's a bit ostentatious. Prag probably didn't want to be that easily noticed."