It was a picture of perfect serenity—untouched forest blooming into life after a cold, biting winter, coming into focus as the morning mist dissipated. Pools of sunlight pierced through the canopy of tall, rigid conifers with their needle-like leaves, dappling the loamy forest floor wet with a flush of morning dew on this crisp spring morning. A tiny creek gurgled merrily nearby, its crystal clear waters slipping through shards of ice that crackled and broke apart as it passed. A songbird began to sing, satisfied with the morning's breakfast offerings.
Suddenly, a disruption!
From the edge of the forest trudging footsteps were to be heard, a tiny pitter-patter of six-year old feet, and a chattering, from this same six-year old boy, who was, as it seemed, talking about something or another to an imaginary friend.
"So I went back to the pig sty this morning but found it all cleaned and the trough filled with feed and I had nothing left to do and I went to look for ma but she was headed off to work and da was in his workshop and he doesn't appreciate being interrupted much, so I headed to the farm, but Mrs Piggott told me that Gid had gone off to market with Farmer Piggott, and she honestly had no errands left for me to do, because Gid had done them all. That's why I'm here, I suppose. I don't fancy others find me useful much. I wish there was something I can do."
The six-year old boy was fiddling with a piece of straw in his hands.
"We're poor, I know that. I looked it up the dictionary so I know what it means, and I know that ma and da work so hard every day so they can put food on our table. Farmer Piggott lets us earn a bit of money too, by feeding the pigs and baby lambs but it's not a lot of work and my brother does it all so quick and he does it all. I'm the only one who sits around not earning any money. Yesterday I read one of Mrs Piggott's magazines and there was this sweet young songstress who used to be poor too, until she married some rich man, and now she has three children and lots of money. Do you think I could get married too? I could get married to a rich man and he will give ma and da loads of money and they will never have to work another day and they can read to us and tell us stories every day.
I don't know if Quidditch players are rich though, because I know that if there's anyone in the world I could marry it would be George. He's just out of the Puddlemere youth team, I know, and maybe he's a little bit older than me, but maybe, when I'm old enough for him we will fall in love and be married. Mrs Piggott keeps telling me that when I'm old enough to marry I will understand everything. I can't wait for that day! Imagine how exciting it would be, to wake up one day and know everything. How does it happen anyway? Or do you think I will find out too, on that day itself, the day I am old enough to get married."
The boy kept walking and babbling to himself, until he came upon a clearing where he saw the most upsetting sight. A clawed trap had been set by poachers, and trapped inside was a small unicorn, young enough to still gleam of gold. The baby unicorn looked exhausted from trying to pry itself out of the trap, and could barely make a sound. Where were her parents? Fabian Prewett wondered, for he thought the unicorn looked like a her.
He quickly dashed to help the unicorn, who was bleeding from where the claws of the trap dug into its skin. The trap was tightly shut, and Fabian was not able to loosen it. If only he were old enough for his own wand, he thought. He then looked around, hoping he could call for help. He then realised that he had got himself lost in the woods, and for all he knew there was no one nearby who could hear him.
Panicked and helpless, he began to cry, and then saw that the unicorn had had its young horn ruthlessly sawed off, leaving in place a jagged nub. Unicorn parts, he knew, were extremely valuable potion ingredients, and because the old way of harvesting unicorn horns, by earning the trust and friendship of unicorns, and then to take the horn only at a particular moulting age when the process would have been painless was so painstaking and slow, he had heard that poachers were increasingly choosing the expedient route of trapping and hurting these gentle creatures.
He felt so sad he reached out to touch the unicorn, who first shied away but soon realised that Fabian meant no harm. Fabian whispered to the unicorn to hang in there, and that he would find a way to keep her alive. He then asked if the unicorn was thirsty and she seemed to reply with a nod, so he immediately scampered off to get some water.
Fabian dashed to the gurgling creek, and found that he had no means of transporting the water. He then began looking for a plant with leaves large enough to hold water, but the only leaves to be found were just tiny buds yet to unfurl.
He looked down at his clothes. He knew that they could hold some water, but not for long as it would seep through. However, if he could run fast enough there would be enough left for the unicorn to sip.
And so he dashed back and forth in this manner, dipping the edge of his tunic into the creek until the water pooled to a sufficient level. At times he tripped and fell but he got back up as if nothing had happened and went back to the stream and collected water again.
He did this until it looked like the little unicorn was getting better. He then told her that he would be leaving for a short while to get help, but the farther he went the more lost he felt. It was as if the forest was shifting around him, its landscape changing so that he had no clue of the trail he took in entering. Despair began to creep into his thoughts, but then he found a healing plant that he once saw his mother grind into a powder and put on him when he was sick, and he picked off several leaves to bring to the unicorn.
It was getting dark, but from afar he could still see the soft, golden glow of the unicorn so he let the light guide him back to her. As he neared, he realised that the trap had gone and there was now a deep gash along her entire side.
Fabian nearly broke down in hysteria. It was his fault! He realised. It was his fault for leaving her side, and the poachers had returned to collect their trap and abandoned her to die. Fabian had an uneasy feeling that they probably collected her blood to sell as well, by the looks of that deep gash.
Fabian was disconsolate now. Weeping, he apologised over and over to the unicorn for abandoning her, and then he remembered the medicinal leaves and tried to put them over her wounds. He swore, in between sobs, that he would not leave her again and if those poachers ever got back he would tell them what an evil thing they had done, and they would see the error of their ways, and he would make them take her to the vet and then he would make them swear never to do any poaching ever again. He sobbed and sobbed, and then put his arms over the unicorn in a protective hug, and the unicorn nuzzled him in turn.
Tired from all the sobbing, Fabian uncontrollably fell asleep and was only awoken when the morning came and brought with it a search party of adults including his father. There was a shout that they had finally located Fabian, and even before he was fully awake he felt himself pulled from the unicorn.
Fabian began to kick and protest vehemently, for he had sworn to protect the unicorn and be by her side until she got better. His father, who had been the one to carry him off and away from the unicorn, broke it to him that the unicorn had passed away while he was sleeping.
There was no stopping Fabian now. He was beyond consolation and he screamed and kicked hysterically, accusing the adults of lying to him and that he needed to see the unicorn himself one last time. Through his blurry tears, which fell fat and warm down his freckled cheeks, he could see some other men throw a robe over the unicorn and lift her up and away. He felt like a failure, and he didn't want to be a failure. He thought to himself that if he could only get close to the unicorn she would wake again, and refused to accept anything his father tried to tell him.
He could sense his father getting angry at him, but that only made Fabian angrier at his father and kick and protest ever more vigorously. His father marched him back to their little cottage and almost accidentally threw him on the sofa out of frustration.
Fabian was wailing and accusing his dad of not letting him see the unicorn. He could see his siblings cower in a corner, for it was not often their father got angry like that.
"Do you know how much you made us worry," his father said through gritted teeth. "Running off into the woods by yourself. Look at how you've hurt yourself. Who knows what else might happen?"
Fabian refused to calm down and started lashing out at his father. He accused his father of lying to him about the unicorn, and of being a tyrant, and of being a terrible father, and begged for his mother. His father stood over him for a long while, taking all this in with clenched fists, restraining himself with all he could from disciplining his son, and it was at that moment when Fabian's mother returned from her separate search party and rushed to Fabian's side to console him with kind and gentle words.
For hours Fabian refused to eat or drink and was put to bed early. He hated his father then, for being not at all like his mother, and for always stealing his mother from him, but then his father entered the room to tuck him in.
"I'm sorry I was angry at you earlier today, Fabian," his father said, leaning close to kiss his forehead. "I shouldn't have shouted at you."
Fabian continued to pretend he was asleep, because he was still angry at his father. He felt him tuck something into the crook of his arm, and only after he was sure his father had left the room did he take a look at it. It was a carved wooden unicorn that came to life when he caressed it and it settled down next to him.