Devils And Unicorns

Chapter 12

Four months passed. Jersey Devil was finally back in form, winning two of the three races she contested in that space of time. Even Dissent had continued to mine the vein of good fortune, winning a decent stakes race at Ramnock and supplementing his classier stable mate's earnings nicely. Feeling confident off the back of Jersey Devil's recent successes, Florence decided to enter her in the Ramnock Stakes - the last race Ruse had taken before his export to the Highland Province. As she returned to the yard after mailing the entry, Florence was in good spirits.

However, before she even reached the top of the lane, she was greeted with a cacophony of urgent shouts and crashes. She fought the urge to freeze right there in the road and quickened her pace, breaking into a jog as she neared the stables.

"Florence! SHUT THE GATE!" Martha cried. From its tone, it was clear that Martha's plea was not to be questioned. Florence quickly grabbed the edge of the open gate and, summoning all of the strength in her arm, swung it closed. As she looked up to ensure it hit the catch and locked shut, she saw a huge shadow cross into her path. The vast bay form of Last Unicorn came cantering down towards the gateway, nostrils flaring and eyes rolling as though a demon possessed him.

"Whoa!" Florence cried, putting up her hands to stop him as she stumbled backwards. Luckily, the gate clicked shut just in time: Last Unicorn's feet scraped across the concrete as he skidded to a stop behind it.

He did not remain still for long. In a second he turned and took off back up the yard. Florence ran after him, stopping at the gate to witness the havoc that had fallen across the whole place in the short time she had been gone.

There were buckets everywhere – some had been trodden on or kicked and were smashed to smithereens – and the trusty old wheelbarrow was stricken on its side. Last Unicorn cantered down to the far end of the yard, Martha running after him with a lead rope trailing behind her. She was pleading with him to stop, as softly as one can do in a raised voice, but Last Unicorn was ignoring her.

Florence climbed over the gate quickly, too afraid to risk opening it again and having the horse take off up towards the village. She made a dash for the stable block and ducked into the tack room like a soldier scurrying across no-man's-land. She peered around the doorframe at the chaos from this new, alternative viewpoint, and saw Last Unicorn now dancing skittishly from side to side at the bottom of the yard. A fearless Martha was stood with both arms outstretched in front of him, trying to box him in with the lead rope waving in the breeze.

"Martha!" Florence called. "Be careful, for goodness' sake!"

Last Unicorn was blossoming. He had gained weight and condition, and it took less and less effort to bring his coat up to a shine with every passing week. Unfortunately, as his body healed, his temperament had been growing feistier. Despite Charlie's claims that the horse was nothing like his volatile sire, Last Unicorn greeted Florence each day by pinning his ears back against his head and lunging for her over the stable door. When led in-hand, he was bolshy and had a tendency to barge his handler. And although he was generally good to handle with regards to grooming and tacking up, he had made several attempts to nip when he thought he was not being watched closely. And now, he appeared to have gone on some sort of rampage.

Zac darted into the tack room from the other direction, taking Florence by surprise.

"Zac! What's going on?"

"What does it look like?" he replied coolly. "The horse has gone psycho, obviously." He quickly scanned the tack room and picked up a lunge whip from a dusty corner.

"What are you going to do with that?" Florence demanded.

"I'm not going to hit him with it." Zac rolled his eyes. "Keep your hair on, alright?" He strode back out into the yard and pulled open the door to Last Unicorn's stable. Further up the yard, Martha was still trying to approach the horse, who was still skipping from hoof to hoof like a tap dancer, snorting in frustration and chewing at his tongue. Dissent, Jersey Devil and Nolsen all watched with interest from the safety of their own boxes.