Page 26 of Bewitched By the Sea Monster
Jackson and I shuffled into place behind a family of six—a haggard-looking man and woman in their mid-to-late forties, and their exuberant crew of four children, all under the age of ten.
“Mom! Mom!” the youngest boy called as he bounced up and down along the rail. “I seeit!”
“You don’t see nuthin’,” his older sister snuffed.
“I do too!”
“Donot!”
“DO TOO!”
Jackson heaved a big sigh. I patted his arm and gave the children’s mother an empathetic smile as she chided the youngest one for screaming.
“You’ve a beautiful family,” I said.
She looked up, surprised, and gave me a big, proud grin.
“But I see it for real!Mom! Look!” The youngest boy thrust his arm between the pillars of the railing and pointed into the fog.
And therewassomething there.
Abigsomething.
The heavykerthunk-kerthunk-kerthunk-kerthunkof hooves clattered against the rocky terrain as two enormous black horses punched through the mist and trotted to the end of the ramp, where they came to a synchronized halt.
“A horse-drawn carriage!” one of the kids squealed.
The two horses were strapped to a big wooden wagon—spacious enough to seat several dozen people, with room to spare.
But the thing was…
Theyweren’thorses.
Horses didn’t usually havehorns.
“Are they unicorns?” I breathed, turning to Jackson.
“Alicorns,” the attendant said in an uninterested voice—the tone of someone who’d delivered a spiel one too many times. “They’re quite docile, I assure you, and would love a head scratch or two, if you are so inclined to do so. Although we warn all travelers to mind their horns.”
“We try to mind our own horns.” The bulking beast on the right snorted.
“But we lament at their placement,” added the one to the left. “We have no sight directly in front of our eyes. If one were to wander too close, they may not be seen.”
The words were spoken lightly.Amicably. But they almostseemedthreatening, because the beasts lookedsomalicious.
A silken coat of black fur blanketed the alicorns’ hefty bodies, but the long feathers fanning out over their fetlocks were a moss green. That same green dyed the ends of their flowing manes. And each had a twisted emerald-and-black horn—easily two feet long, if not more—protruding from between their eyes, where they apparently had a big blind spot.
“Elmas and Aeolus are two of the ten domesticated alicorns on the isle,” the attendant added, no doubt noticing the nervous silence smothering our group.
“I am Elmas.” The alicorn on the right bobbed his head in a curt introduction. “For those who wish to not traverse the island on foot, you need only to call me or my herd.”
“Each cottage has a bell outside the door,” Aeolus added. “If you wish for a ride, all you need to do is ring it.”
“Fret not”—Elmas lowered his head, whuffling out his nostrils gently, as his mossy green eyes scanned the worried crowd—“We shall see you safely to your cottages.”
The attendant walked around to the back of the wagon and slid a ramp down. “There are benches on either side, and the wagon is wheelchair accessible. But please let me know if you need help with boarding.”
And so, we took an alicorn-drawn wagon across the island to our room.
