The Unicorn Thief Read Free

could ride.”
    He wished so many things that couldn’t all be, at least not at the same time.
    Ben grabbed his cape and hurried into his boots. Poor Twig. But even worse was Indy, shut up in the stable. His unicorn stallion didn’t know what to make of this place. He was used to running free on this island, the home of the Earth Land’s only unicorns, the last free herd of unicorns in any world.
    Ben had spent the whole morning indoors—a unicorn rider, buried in books, captivated by the world within those bright yellow ranch house walls. The warmth, the contraptions, the people—people who cared to know where he was, what he was doing. Oh, they tried to give him his space. They weren’t the same with him as they were with each other. But still…
    He was so used to being on his own since his father died. And before that—being with Father had been like being on his own, only without the loneliness. They had known each other so well. They’d worked together as unicorn herders for most of Ben’s life. Sometimes Ben wondered who he was without Father.
    He didn’t know the answer yet, but one thing was for sure—he was a herder and Indy’s rider. Foul weather or not, he belonged in the woods with his unicorn, breathing in the wild, cold fragrance of cedar and rain, not cinnamon French toast, hot coffee, and lemony spray cleaner.
    He hurried outside and jumped down the porch steps and over a row of daffodils bent low with the heaviness of the spring rain. He darted to the stables, where Mr. Murley already had the door open.
    The stable was alive with the distressed wails of the more skittish ponies. Others nickered attempts to make peace with the fearsome Indy, who was locked in the back stall with his daughter, Wonder. All along the stable aisle, the ponies—one for each of the six girls—tossed their heads in agitation. Over the stall wall, Mrs. Murley’s horse, Feather, bared her teeth at Indy. Indy’s horn ripped through the air. Feather backed away, neighing her remorse.
    Sparkler, the alpha mare, neighed threateningly at Indy, a fearless—and foolish—attempt to come to Feather’s defense. Wonder leaped and rammed the stall with her horn. Ben jumped back. The ponies cried wildly as the young unicorn took her father’s side against the stable full of animals she’d grown up with. Ben’s heart thudded in his chest and rain pelted the skylights overhead, adding a fierce, angry rhythm to the stable sounds.
    â€œIndy,” Ben said firmly, reassuringly, “I’m coming. Stand down now, the both of you.”
    Indy’s low growl-snort answered him. A smaller whirl of white mane swished next to Indy’s majestic head. The long, gleaming spiral of Indy’s horn with its midnight-blue stripe streaked back and forth above the stable walls in a pantomime of battle. Ben knew how well-trained and disciplined his unicorn actually was. He was merely mimicking fighting his way out. He was powerful enough to thrust his horn right through the stall walls until they were nothing but a pile of splinters.
    Indy wouldn’t do it, especially with Ben there. But would Wonder? Sparkler reared, and again Wonder rammed the stall. There was a slam-crack. Wonder was young, impulsive, not as disciplined as Indy, and her rider wasn’t here. Rain Cloud called for Sparkler to lay off, and Indy gave Wonder a poke with his horn, but his heart wasn’t in it. He shot Ben a defiant glare as if to say, I won’t break out of here, and I won’t charge at that impertinent pony, but if Wonder wants to do it, why should I stop her?
    â€œBen?” Mr. Murley couldn’t quite hide the tremor in his voice.
    â€œGet Twig, Mr. M. Quick.”
    Wonder backed up. She bent her knees. Ben knew that look. She wasn’t going to charge this time; she was going to jump. Right out of her stall and into Sparkler’s. The pony wouldn’t