One Shot: Unicorn Fever

Vivien Saunders

888

A/N: This is my first one-shot, so please forgive me if I'm doing anything wrong. The first proper snow we've had in years fell in the UK a few weeks ago, and the feeling of peace was incredible. People couldn't drive, no-one went to work (here in the marshes, if you skid, you drown) and the sensation was unbelievable. I decided to share it, and I thought that if anyone deserved to have a bit of peace in their lives, it was Numair and Daine.

In the style of "Sleep Pale Sister" by Joanne Harris.

888

It was one of those timeless hours of winter. The snow drifted softly from the darkened sky, illuminated by the silken silver light that showed no signs of darkening. The trees seemed to sigh as each breath of wind shook them, reluctant to shed the sheltering blankets of snow from their branches. The deadly threat and fear of winter was gone, and all that remained was the utter peace of a quiet winter's day.

The girl woke up for the first time in days. Her grey eyes reflected the light outside brightly as she pulled herself to a window. She didn't know whether it was morning or evening, or even if she was truly awake. The feeling of peace had shaken her from the delirium which had held her captive for so long, leaving a simple quiescence.

For a moment, she thought she was a child again. The snow fell here, as it had in the mountains, as impersonally as the clouds that fled above. She smiled at the evergreens outside her room, expecting to hear her mother's voice calling her. She remembered the loving care throughout her illness, the feeling that, even in the terror of the nightmares, she was safe. The feeling of having a home.

It was the same feeling she'd had on other days like this. The knowledge that, no matter how cold and dark the winter became, there would always be the warmth of a fire and a family to come home to. Her dislike of the winter stepped aside for times like these, when the snow seemed as beautiful and fleeting as the migrating birds in the sky.

Knowing vaguely that she was still ill, but wanting to be a part of the elemental peacefulness that had wakened her, she pulled on some clothes. The sweat of sickness clung to her skin. She scrubbed it off impatiently, resenting the reminder of her humanity.

There was an outside door from her room, shut tightly. She frowned at it, wondering why it was shut. She never shut the door. When she opened it the breeze was soft against her face, not bitterly cold but gently cooling. It smelled sweet- the promise of spring just waiting under the snow, ready for its chance.



She suddenly wanted to be outside. She had been inside for too long, and the door had been shut. Her friends would be missing her. She had pulled on her shoes before she remembered that most of her friends would be asleep, hibernating beneath the snow. The others would be busy feeding themselves, hunting as their autumn stocks began to disappear. None of them would have missed her.

Never mind. I want to go outside. She thought stubbornly.

The sound of her footsteps was the only sound as she walked through the snow. Each clear print she left behind her seemed to make her feel slightly more like herself. Her head spun- not with the dizziness of the last few days, but with a strange lightness, as if the wind that spun each snowflake around her face had the power to pick her up, too.

She hadn't walked far before her legs were aching, and her head began spinning in earnest. She scooped up a handful of snow from the ground and drank it, letting the icy water clear her head as she wiped her hand dry on her coat. She looked around, wondering if there was a fallen tree branch, or somewhere dry.

A small copse of pine trees offered themselves as a dry shelter. The girl welcomed the small patch of dry ground, leaning her head against the trunk wearily as she watched the snow falling a foot away. Some of her friends, small, hardy animals used to hunting through the winter, stopped and greeted her. They left as quickly and silently as they had arrived, aware of the overpowering peacefulness around them.

A second set of footprints approached softly. She barely noticed until the man was right next to her. Then she smiled up at him.

"Feeling better?" He asked, not able to keep the slight worry out of his voice. She smiled again in reply, waiting for him to sit next to her before she spoke. Her throat felt sore when she spoke.

"I'm watching the snow."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The snowflakes were falling more steadily now, the dancing wind fading. The silvery light seemed more intense for it, shining through gaps in the pine needles. The girl watched it all silently, her face reflecting some of the radiance of the world around her. Gradually, she realised the man was watching her, and looked away from the snowstorm.

"What's wrong?"

The man looked away. "I'm glad you're better. I'm a terrible nursemaid."

She was silent for a moment. "I can't remember. I... I can remember feeling safe. I was frightened, but I knew there was no reason for me to be scared. I knew I was safe."

He didn't answer. She leaned her head wearily on his shoulder, glad for the extra warmth. "Thank you." She said simply.

They looked out at the snow together, wondering at its tranquillity. Their lives together had been chaotic enough that any time of peace was something to be cherished. The sky darkened as the 

evening drew in, bringing the promise of more cold weather. The man put his arm around the girl's shoulders when he felt her shiver, warming her with his gift. She sighed, already half asleep, the brief time of lucidity leading her to a deep, welcoming slumber.

The man gazed at the snow for a long while, the girl asleep in his arms, lost in thought.