WHISPERS IN THE WIND

If there's anything I enjoy as much as Narnia, it's the Unicorn Chronicles, by Bruce Coville. I own all of the books in the series; the fourth and final volume arrived in the mail just yesterday! The books are incredibly sad, yet inexpressibly beautiful. I have received a great deal of inspiration for Terence and for my own unicorn books from those books, you know. I decided to try my hand at some fan fiction. I'm amazed at how few UC stories there are around here; well, every little bit helps! A word of warning: this contains major spoilers for "The Last Hunt", so read at your own risk.

Characters © Bruce Coville

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

It was often said that you could pick your friends, but you could not pick your relatives. Lightfoot agreed wholeheartedly with that statement, especially when it came to his uncle.

For as long as the young unicorn could remember, he and Moonheart were never on the best of terms with each other. They were constantly butting heads, arguing about almost everything. To Lightfoot, Moonheart was very intractable, very forceful, and about as prickly as a thorn bush. Lightfoot could not recall a time when he did not resent his uncle, even hate him. Nevertheless, his uncle's untimely death left a gaping, oozing wound on his heart, a wound that he wasn't sure would or could ever be healed.

Even now, Lightfoot could clearly see Moonheart lying on the ground, bloody and broken, having fallen during the intense battle against the Hunters. In that moment, all of the quarrels, all of the recriminations, all of the ill feelings between the two unicorns vanished away, like dew melting in the sun. In anguish and desperation, Lightfoot fell to his knees and attempted to heal Moonheart, but it was already too late. Unicorns, though they could cure grievous wounds and illnesses, did not possess the power to resurrect.

As it was with every unicorn who died, Moonheart's earthly body soon faded from sight, and his magnificent horn was all that remained of him.

Lightfoot wouldn't have believed it possible. As poor as his relationship with his uncle had been, he'd never wanted him dead. But now Moonheart was gone, and what was worse, he left before he and Lightfoot had the opportunity to recompense with one another. So, he had died without knowing how sorry his nephew was, for everything that had gone wrong. Lightfoot used to think his uncle was the sole cause of their contention, but looking back, he saw now that he hadn't been any better off himself.

One calm, clear night, while most of the other unicorns slept, Lightfoot stood alone at the edge of Autumngrove and gazed forlornly into the star-strewn heavens. A mild breeze lifted and spilled his foam-white mane all about his face and neck, but he never moved from that spot. He wondered where Moonheart was now, if the old unicorn could see him from where he was.

He wondered if Moonheart missed him.

Lightfoot sincerely repented of everything he had ever said and done, and he wished from the bottom of his heart that Moonheart was right here beside him, if only for a moment, just so he could take it all back and plead for the old unicorn's forgiveness. He bowed his head and whispered aloud, "Forgive me, uncle. Forgive me. I am so sorry."

Lightfoot.

The young unicorn pricked up his ears, and lifted his head with a jolt. Who said that? He glanced about bewilderedly, but aside from him, there was no one around.

Lightfoot.

There it was, again. It was no louder than a whisper, as faint as moon shadows, but there was no mistaking it.

"Moonheart?" said Lightfoot tentatively. "Is…is that you, uncle?"

I am here, nephew.

Lightfoot's heart nearly stopped on the spot. His knees buckled, and he feared he should fall to the earth and not be able to rise again.

"M-Moonheart!" he gasped, unable to conceal his shock and fright. "But—but you're dead!"

That is true, nephew. My body is dead, but my spirit lives on.

Lightfoot began to tremble all over, from horn to hoof. "Is it—is it truly you, uncle?" he managed to choke out.

Truly.

Now Lightfoot could feel a warm wetness in his eyes, and his surroundings went blurry. It was a moment before it dawned on him that he was weeping, just like a human child. Of course, unicorns were perfectly capable of weeping, of shedding tears; but such a thing had never occurred to Lightfoot until just recently. He could feel an aching weight pressing down on his heart, until he almost couldn't breathe. His fear was quickly gone, but now grief—pure, raw grief—came to take its place. His body continued to tremble, but this time for a different reason.

"Oh, Moonheart," he groaned, his voice thick with the emotion that he could hardly contain, "I'm sorry…I'm so very sorry, for everything. Forgive me, I beg of you."

No, Lightfoot, forgive me. Forgive me, for treating you so poorly. I should have had more patience with you, more consideration for you.

"It was all my fault," Lightfoot wept, as a diamond-like tear fell from his face and splashed onto a nearby stone.

No, nephew. If anyone is truly to blame, I am the one. I'd forgotten what it was like to be young, and free-spirited. There was a time when I was not so different from you. I have always regretted the things we said and did to each other over the years, and I wish I could turn back time and change everything. But alas, like trying to control the sun or the sea, it is impossible. But I always cared about you, regardless of my words and actions, and it was only because I wanted the best for you that I was so hard on you. Forgive me, Lightfoot.

After a time, Lightfoot was able to bring himself to say, "I forgive you, Moonheart."

The moment these words left his tongue, he knew them from the root of his soul to be true.

And I, in turn, forgive you.

This brought forth a fresh flood of tears, and Lightfoot cried out, "Oh, Moonheart, I need you! I need you here, now! How can I make it without you?"

I will be with you, Lightfoot. Even though you may not always be able to see me, I'll be in your heart.

"What can I do? What is my purpose, in this life?"

You will find out, in time. You will find your own path, a destiny that belongs entirely to you, but you must be willing to seek it out. It all depends on you.

Lightfoot faltered for a time, before daring to ask, "Will I ever see you again, uncle? Will we ever meet again?"

Yes, we will. I cannot say when. But one day, someday, all of us will be together, never to be separated. Don't ever doubt that, Lightfoot, and don't be afraid. Everything will be all right.

Then Lightfoot felt something warm and soft brush against him, and somehow he knew it was more than just the wind. Even when he could no longer hear Moonheart's voice, nothing more than the sweet sounds of the night, he still had the impression that he wasn't alone. Though tears continued to pour abundantly down his face, Lightfoot felt his sorrow begin to soften.

The wound in his heart, while not yet entirely mended, was soothed a great deal; the terrible pain abated. A sense of peace and reassurance encompassed him.

In spite of all that had come about before, the young stallion knew, somehow, that everything really would be all right.