By April Coan
The bowstring felt taut in Havdana’s hands. Nervous, she took slow, patient breaths.
“Don’t do it,” Efran whispered. “We can survive without.”
Havdana thought about her village, her starving elders. She knew what she must do.
An arrow took flight in the morning chill, followed, close behind, by a thud. The wide-eyed beast shuddered, slumping to the earth.
Havdana said a short prayer of forgiveness. As she cut the spiral horn, she felt the beast’s spirit drift, forever forsaking that most sacred forest.
The air’s stillness lifted as slow rain began to fall. Nature always mourns the death of a unicorn.
Hey. you did marvelously, April. Good, vivid writing–and I completely missed the spiral horn reference! Got me but good–I like it when a writer does that!