Getaway

• Faye Wang, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2009

I watched the knife, half dreamily, half skillfully, carve out the ripples of barks away from a rowan-wood stick. Eventually, I painted, upon it, the gentle tides that would forever be the source of its life. A nearby creature stirred and shone its gleaming horn, on its forehead, at the last rays of the sun.
“Hush, Cornia,” I murmured and touched my newly made wand to her nose. She carelessly brushed her sliver manes across my face, tapped her hoof, and resumed her doze.
This hour of the day was usually a time of rest for the clan that I lived with, but no for me. I was practicing magic- something that was forbidden to me from the time of my birth, and all because of my… I sighed. From the time I was born, I was different, or at least different from my paternal race. They had straight jet-black hair and shrewd mulberry eyes but I had none of that. These waist-long wavy tresses of mine were no other than the colour of a pale flame, yet it wasn’t that hair that betrayed me; it was the light-periwinkle eyes. Even hidden so well behind their sorcerer eyes, I could sense their fear, the most behind the Lord Iosaruds, my father. And so, I was degraded to, but a mere maid-servant, denied of everything, even the identity of my mother, but I heard rumors that she had suddenly disappeared on the night of my birth. How, nobody knew.
A flutter from one of the trees woke me from my pondering. Yes, I should practice my magic now.
I gently laid the tip of my wand to my mouth and blew the magic into it. Suddenly, I picked up a suspicious sound. Leaves crackled under a trampling feet. Nearer, nearer…A twig snapped somewhere to my right…and from the side of the rowan tree, appeared a young princely man. These copper coloured hairs outlined the finely chiseled face, not too feminine but not rough either. His brilliant eyes were deep-grey, the colour of the sea on a cloudy day, with eyebrows that were long and serious. His nose was Roman-like, but finer and softer yet his mouth was set in a firm line.
“I need your help,” the rich mellow voice whispered.
I did not know which, the desperate pleading eyes, or the agitated tone of the voice, that sent me fetching for Cornia, the only companion of mine, and handed her reins to him.
“Thank you… May I please have the honour to know your name?”
“Brenya,” I managed to mutter under blushing cheeks.
“Then goodbye, my Brenya,” And after saying this, his athletic body leaped on Cornia and galloped away. By that time, the warrior sorcerers had rushed to the scene, the unicorn well in the distance with the wanted man. “Go and catch them!” yelled the chief of the group, but I knew that Cornia was too fast for them, and smiled, still thinking of those brilliant deep-grey eyes.