I've known people that can anticipate anything. I've known people that know
what I want to say before I say it. I've known precogs, oracles,
But this is just instinct.
Something is going to happen today, and I fear it may not be what expected.
What *I* expect it to be.
Am I getting ahead of myself? Sorry, I always do that. I'm Azzandra
Megaire, and some might say I'm a third-hand witch. Well, yes, I am
horrible at spells and have only the uncanny ability to create mass
disasters. That doesn't stop me from trying.
Like now, I'm gathering herbs. I've found some pretty rare ones by now and
I could even sell them. Heh, I could try being an ecomancer, if all else
fails. Heard it's a piece of cake. Well, no... not really. I heard it's
incredibly hard and frustrating. But it helps keeping a positive attitude.
A slight breeze ruffles the leaves. Or is it something else?...
I stop tentatively and frown. Someone-- or something-- was watching. I turn
Then I gap.
It's not everyday you find unicorns staring at you.
It looks so... perfect. Perfect snow-white coat, spiraling horn, coal-black
eyes... Beautiful. And all I can do is stare back.
I watched its delicate hooves raising themselves and moving on the dry
leaves closer. I choked a scream when a black-green vine with thorns
wrapped itself around the unicorn's back hoof.
Black rose bush... It feeds off magic, of any kind. Magic sustains it.
And right now, the unicorn seems the only sustaining substance close
I grabbed a dagger and approach the vine, ready to cut it loose. But it
works its way up the legs and starts wrapping itself tighter.
The unicorns starts kicking and screeching in protest.
I can't get close enough to cut the blasted plant. And he must've stepped
on a bloody bush, because other vines are starting to sprout out of the
ground and slyther in the air like tentacles around him.
He raises himself on his back legs and tries kicking the vines. They wrap
themselves, grabbing his neck and strangling him.
He shakes his head, but the more he moves, the tighter the veins wrap.
With one final tug of the bush, he collapses, kicking spasmodically with
his last breaths.
The thorny vines slash his white fur, openning large gashes. He closes his
eyes tiredly, not protesting.
It wasn't a fair fight to begin with. I've seen smaller bushes kill
gryphons the size of a small house.
The white-silvery blood seeps into the ground, when the black rose bush
lurks. The vines unravel themselves off the unicorn's corpse and knot
around eachother. The thorns fall almost instantly...
It's shedding. The thorns come off and small rosebuds grow instead. The
rosebuds turn into full-fledged roses, white in colour. The vines
themselves turn icy blue. Of course, they're still poisonous-- the
combination of black witchcraft and unicorn blood isn't a very good one.
But... my instinct was right...
This was very... unexpected.
Author Note: after writing "The Dragon, the Witch and the Tomatoes" I felt
like writing something less humorous. But yeah, you could say these two
fics are related.