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“Ideas that don’t bode well for the missing unicorns. Or for Terracornians.” Merrill leaned back against a tree. “One rumor is that Eastland is behind the thefts. Though we’re under a truce now, the wars have taken their toll. The unicorns’ numbers are dwindling. Dangerously low. Likely they’re stealing the best mounts for their own army and to breed new stock. But this particular theft suggests more.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, more?” Twig asked.
    â€œWar,” Ben said. “Taking the queen’s own unicorn—it’s the ultimate insult.”
    Merrill nodded solemnly. “A blatant provocation.”
    Ben stared into the trees, deep in thought, eyes full of sadness.
    Twig turned to Merrill. “I saw your note to Ben, about going to the queen. He won’t tell me what it means. Does this have something to do with that? This unicorn thief? Starting a new war with Eastland?”
    â€œAhhh.” Merrill looked surprised. “Yes, little one. I’m afraid it does.”
    â€œWhat!” Ben jerked to attention.
    Merrill fixed Ben with a penetrating gaze. “What if Twig is right?”
    He shook his head sharply. “It doesn’t matter.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter?” Twig said.
    â€œThis is my world now. This herd is my responsibility. Not Westland. There are no herders, no free unicorns allowed in Westland anymore, remember?”
    â€œYour father—” Merrill began.
    â€œMy father left Westland, and for good reason. And this is what he left me—the unicorns of Lonehorn Island.”

Chapter 6
    In his shelter, Ben awoke. The hollow was quiet, but the woods surrounding it were not. Merrill had gone back to Terracornus to look after Marble, the injured unicorn he was secretly caring for, and Ben and Twig were alone.
    He pushed the sleeping bag back and grabbed his weapons, then pulled the boughs that formed the door of his shelter aside. A thick, misty morning seeped through the low-hanging branches of the hollow. So did sounds that made Ben’s heart pound. Calls not nearly far enough away.
    Unicorns.
    But where was the low, warning answer from Indy? The neigh alerting his rider or young Wonder that a potential enemy was approaching? Ben glanced at the unicorns, still curled on their sides next to each other—they were not just in their usual lighter sleep, sitting with their legs bent under them, ready to rise in a blink, but in the truly deep sleep that only overtook them for a couple of hours each night. Usually in the deepest, darkest of the night. Not now, at sunrise!
    It was unheard of for any unicorn. Ben grabbed Indy’s tack and clambered out of his shelter.
    Twig fell out of the tent, sword in hand. “You heard it too?”
    Ben nodded. “They’re headed this way.”
    Twig reached back inside the tent for her bow and quiver, then Wonder’s tack.
    â€œWhy are they still sleeping?” Twig said. “We’ve got to wake them up.”
    Ben approached Indy carefully. He didn’t want to startle him and get himself hurt. “Indy-boy. Let’s get up now. Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
    Twig talked to Wonder, but neither animal stirred.
    Ben rubbed Indy’s neck. “Wake up, boy.” The stallion didn’t even open his eyes.
    Outside the hollow, the unicorn calls grew louder. Ben rubbed Indy again, more briskly. Indy’s eyelids lifted. His quicksilver eyes had a groggy, almost milky look.
    â€œThey must be sick.” Twig rubbed Wonder’s neck the same way and got no response.
    Whatever the cause, their unicorns were dead asleep. And they could all be dead in moments if the herders didn’t handle this right. The calls grew louder, dangerously close.
    â€œBen! What do we do? We can’t just wait for them.”
    â€œWe go out there. We defend the hollow.” Ben slung his quiver over his shoulder and took up his