Page 106 of The Heart and the Hawthorn

Unicorns move through worlds.

Dian had told her that.

At her baffled expression, Dian just chuckled, a low purr running down her bones, and hugged her to them, placing a soft kiss to her neck. Later. Frida groaned, and all thoughts of unicorns vanished. Yet as she leaned blissfully into their warmth, something feathered against her. A possibility, and a promise. Of a great sea horse swimming north with coals for eyes and a song of caves and wave-dashed beaches in his heart. An old introvert with gaps in his face where the owls nested, and a branch that tapped against bone, finding his way home. Vampire bats, soaring and snapping their teeth, and the thundering tread of stone giants, each one shaking the foundations of car parks all across the UK. The infinite branches, spores, nuts, seeds and leaves, the fluttering wings of a lunar moth, the beetles and worms under the ground. Violet fire welled in her eyes and Frida placed one shaking hand against Dian’s extraordinary heart. She heard the thundering beat, and her own heart blazing in answer.

EPILOGUE

Frida and Dian stood amongst the soft rustling willow leaves of the unicorn’s enclosure, and watched as Fireheart tried, very hard, not to lose her temper. There were only a few pale stars left in the grey sky, a typical Melody dawn. It wasn’t really a typical dawn though, not at all. Time and earth and life and death and love and loss and magic had been released. What was typical about that?

Frida struggled to keep a straight face as Issy kicked up her hooves and galloped in circles, desperately overexcited as Cliff attempted to reason with her. It turned out that Dian had been entirely serious about asking the unicorn.

‘Issy, please! We need you to calm down, just for a second!’

‘WeeeeoohgrassleapapplesplungefreebrighthappybuzzFRIEND!’ Issy squealed, popopop, each word a chiming bubble of starlight that burst, one after the other after the other.

‘BallballballraceohDRAGONtreesmagicfunDELIGHTworldsworldsworlds!’

It was their own fault. They shouldn’t have given her those kitten treats.

Fireheart seemed likely to expire of a little-known disease: Insufferable-Baby-Unicorn-itis. Dian, at Frida’s side, looked likely to expire too, of the same condition, although their symptoms were less get me out of here lest my head explodes and more oh my skies there’s a baby unicorn and how can we think about anything else other than the fact there’s a baby unicorn.

There was a lot of squealing.

Frida grinned.

Two weeks had passed since the wood had opened and magic had tumbled into Melody-Upon-Sea, spreading like a tidal wave over fields, villages and council estates, landfills, motorways and retail parks. The portraits of Sir Joshua and all the rest had been taken down and, in tacit agreement, shoved in some storeroom at the back of Ground Control.

For the moment, the magical wood didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Easier to grow apparently than to get rid of entirely, but it turns out the trees hadn’t swallowed the whole world. Just up to the Sainsburys on the A28, which wasn’t too far really in the whole the scheme of things. House prices in the forest were already skyrocketing. The blackthorns at the entrance gates were being most obliging too, lifting their vigilance and unfurling their branches at Dian’s request. The inevitable floods of press, Management, police and tourists were being held at bay by two very stern basilisks.

Cliff and Gloria had been busy locating the other head keepers, making important phone calls, arguing with governments, feeding tired animals, wrangling somnolent beatific zookeepers and sending home the most sleepy humans still wandering around in delirious states of, Have I really not been debating with philosophical sea snakes, travelling with many-trunked elephants, and frequenting mountain spas for the last month with beautiful athletic Norwegians?

Cliff was still having at least five aneurisms a day, and according to Hamish he’d almost thrown the coffee machine across the kitchen twice. But Frida had seen him and Gloria having lunch together, and that in itself was worth fifty coffee machines. Swirling glitter couldn’t change the world overnight, but there were reports of trees popping up as far north as Glasgow, in places where trees had not been seen in a really long time. Waterways getting cleaner, eagles turning up in people’s front gardens, fairy mushrooms sprouting in the House of Commons. The world felt looser, and even the LEZ’s stalwart protestors had packed up their signs and gone home for a well-earned slice of carrot cake and a nap.

They all felt different.

Nobody, not even Fireheart, knew how long it would last. For now though, they just all seemed more like themselves. Everyone, not just the people in the zoo, but outside of it too. Management wasn’t even complaining that, under the orders of a dragon, they weren’t allowed back in. Some of them even started to take off their suits.

And as for the zoo?

The animals were feeling a lot of emotions: relief, euphoria, excitement, pain, confusion. The trauma of the last years, centuries and generations was still there – not even this amount of freed magic could wipe it away. But there was healing, too. Or the possibility of it. And that was a beginning. Fireheart, Frida and Dian (who, it turned out, had a bit of a gift for languages) acted as translators, moving around the yellow brick roads at something approaching light speed. They began with the names, of course. Some of the animals claimed back their own, like the kraken, formerly known as Karen, now SHIP-CRUSHING-SOUL-EATER (specifically all caps). The Lagarfljót Worm wanted to be called, simply, Bob.

Others, like Fireheart, chose to keep the names they’d become accustomed to. Princess Issy wouldn’t hear of another name, neither would Raziel, or any of Jellybean’s troop. The Nuckelavee was the one who surprised Frida most. Despite what Fireheart had said, he claimed to be more than a little attached to the name that struck terror into the hearts of all who heard it.

Mostly, they asked who wanted to go home. Even if there were no homes to go to. And many did. Many wanted to leave. But many wanted to stay, too. Some who wanted care and others who wanted to see what this place would become.

It wouldn’t be called the LEZ anymore. They’d find another name. There would be no wards. Specifically, no eating each other. Maybe no tourists would be allowed in, maybe when they worked it all out Fireheart would be in charge of it all, because what could anyone say against that, if that’s what the bad-tempered old dragon set her mind to? Or maybe they’d have a council, Frida half-dreamed as she, Antony and Hamish had a few moments together, trying to settle the glow-worms back into their cocoons. A council of different species to decide all their fates, from here to former Extraordinary Zoos around the world.

‘They’d have to find a way to make office chairs that were fireproof,’ Hamish had said drolly. ‘And ones that accommodated tails.’

Antony had smiled and kissed Hamish’s cheek, replying, with a wink at Frida, ‘Anything is possible, even new office chairs, right?’

Frida had nodded, but she’d wondered as she’d sung a lullaby to a particularly uncooperative glow-worm, if she’d really want to be one of those people sitting on those chairs. Because when anything was possible, why would you want to sit on an office chair anyway?

Back in Issy’s enclosure, Dian asked uncertainly, ‘Do you think we should step in?’

Frida watched as Fireheart snapped at Cliff, who was struggling not to cry as a baby unicorn ran in circles around him.

‘Probably,’ she agreed with a sigh. ‘Before Fireheart sets our only unicorn on fire.’ She gave Dian a little nudge as they started across the grass. There’d been no more spine-tingling kisses, other than a few impassioned fumbles behind obliging yew hedges, and no discussion between them about the future. There hadn’t been time. At night, Frida went back to pass out in her flat, dead tired, and Dian slept in the roots of the hawthorn tree. But it was there. Hovering in the air between them.