Briar Thorne's Arc

Chapter 9 of 11

The blossoms would not open. Briar knelt at the garden's center stone. The pink buds stayed shut, tight and cold in her hands. The fox kit's warmth had thawed the ground. It could not force a flower to bloom. She had days left, maybe less. Then she remembered the flower she had thawed from the deepest ice. A pale snow blossom, believed lost forever. It carried a strange, living heat. Not enough for the garden. But perhaps enough for something else. She wrapped it in cloth and started down the slope toward the dark glade below. The keeper met her at the glade's edge. Briar had faced her once before, when she came for a strand of unicorn hair. The fairy stood tall between the carved stone arches, her crown of blossoms and pale hair bright against the dark trees. Behind her the herd shifted, their manes shining in every color. The keeper's green eyes narrowed. "You again," she said. "You took your strand. Now what do you want from my herd?" "Nothing," Briar said. "I brought something instead." She held out the wrapped bundle. The keeper did not move. So Briar spoke first of the princess. She told her of the woman who loved a goddess and begged for a frozen garden. She told her how the wish became a cage that killed them both. "I found this flower under the ice she made," Briar said. "It was hers. I want the herd to have it." She unwrapped the snow blossom. Warm light spilled from its petals. The nearest unicorn lifted its head. It stepped past the keeper, drawn by the glow. The keeper reached to stop it, then paused. The unicorn pressed its nose to the flower and breathed. Its coat brightened. Its tired eyes cleared. It stamped and tossed its mane like a young colt. One by one the others came, and their colors deepened with each breath. The keeper watched her herd wake. When she looked at Briar again, the suspicion was gone. "They have been fading for years," she said quietly. "I did not know why. You give, and you ask nothing." She touched a unicorn's neck. "Take what you came for. I know you need it, or you would not have climbed down here." "The blossoms on the peak won't open," Briar said. "I have no more living warmth to give them." The keeper plucked three long strands from the brightest mane. She pressed them into Briar's hands. "Unicorn hair holds the herd's life. Bind it to your buds. It may coax them where fire cannot." She stepped back. "Go. And when your garden blooms, come tell me." Briar climbed toward the peak with the glowing strands. She had the last thing she needed. Now only the buds themselves stood between her and the goddess's promise.