Profane Tales: Traps

Profane Tales: Traps

1

“You must not stray from the path laid out for us. It has less to do with following orders and more to do with remaining secure,” the Unicorn told his mortal charge.

The Princess yawned, basket in hand and hood over her head. “Have you seen many dangers lately?” she asked the Unicorn.

“The very place you journey to is a danger,” the Unicorn insisted. “I know not why you trust that old woodsman. Men like him think of one thing—“

Amy groaned. It was not that she doubted the Unicorn’s reasoning. He and the whole world warned her of this vague horror at the hands of men, so she had no choice but to believe in its brutal, looming presence. But how she had heard this lecture one hundred times over.

“As long as you are with me I will be safe,” she offered this more for the Unicorn’s sense of ease than her own.

The creature was silent but shook his shimmering mane. Amy recognized the gesture as a positive affirmation so she smiled. They crunched through the snow in quiet for a time.

“Unicorn?” the hooded maiden asked, as the woods darkened.

“Dear?” he responded.

“Why is it growing dark so early?”

“The Fae, most likely. Follow my light and do not stray. They are not demons but they are still dangerous.”

Amy trained her eyes on the Unicorn’s luminescent horn. Its bluish glow casts against trees and stumps and other jagged silhouettes. She went to set a hand on her friend’s flank but recalled that he did not much enjoy being touched. So, she refrained though it would have aided her greatly in the growing illusions around her.

The dark became pitch to her inexperienced eyes and terror filled her heart.

“Unicorn!” she called out.

“Follow the light, Princess!” the Unicorn’s voice came.

She rubbed her eyes but saw not one, but three blue lights.

“Unicorn, which light is yours?”

The noises of the forest flooded out her voice and her friend creature’s. She could hear the Unicorn but could not judge from what direction.  She gulped and chose a light with a nursery rhyme from her childhood. It was intended to help a babe choose.

“Pickle, pepper, powder, prune. Though your taste is bitter, I chew…” she closed her eyes and opened them to see her little pointer finger on one of the lights “you!”

She picked that light and hoped it was the Unicorn.

2

The sound of singing served to draw the Princess from the dark.

She crawled out of the dimmed forest to discover a clearing with lake and sunlight. So it was still daylight after all?

The singing voice was alien to her, at once soothingly high and with a hint of rustic charm. Wind flutes followed and Amy drew ever closer to the sound. She casts a dark eye behind and saw no sign of her Unicorn. She had hopelessly lost the path by now. Though the voice was strange, at least it was a thing to follow.

Finally she found the musician, the source of such sweet music. She gasped when she spotted the lower half of a goat and small horns upon the crown of his head.

“Lost your way, Princess?” he asked, his voice nearly too soft for a man.

“I am afraid so, stranger. I have lost my guide, you see. And wandered from the path. I could find my way back if only the forest were not dark as night.”

“Yes, I saw a company of sprites take to the woods earlier. They enjoy confusing travelers, my lady. But never fear. You are safe here.”

She giggled and kept her distance. “You are a faun? A satyr? I know better than to trust you.”

“You are friends with a Unicorn. I know better than to overstep boundaries.” His smile seemed sly. He had hair nearly as dark as her own tresses. He owned a dark complexion like that of traveling peoples Amy had spotted in the village. He slipped off the rock where he had been lounging. Now he was nearer, examining her in a way that reminded her of a goat. She half expected him to sniff her. She tried not to laugh at his big floppy ears but they were charming.

“So, you know me? I do not recall ever meeting you,” she said.

“Yes, you are somewhat famous. A maiden who ensnared a unicorn. Lucky girl…” he purred.

“Oh, that? I…” she hung her head “did not mean to get him caught all those years ago. My father did not tell me it was an ambush.”

The faun’s finger rested on her lips. A wave of warmth flowed through her. A man had never touched her so before.

“Hush. Accidents are boring. Do not dwell on losing the path or being used as bait. How sad is life with no willful mistakes…”

She did not recoil, as her mind told her to. Instead she leaned in, curious and wishing to hear more of this philosophy. The faun’s ears folded back, his fingers resting under her chin.

“Wh-what?” she laughed dumbly.

“I mean that it is better to own one’s mistakes than it is to be the prop in another’s…”

This was new. Amy had never heard such thinking before. It was dangerous but was she not allowed to hear frightful things from time-to-time?

The faun removed her hood and the sun touched her on the wintry day. “You have not run from me yet, Princess.”

“I wonder if you will teach me your instrument…” she replied softly, gesturing to the flutes.

“It is an instrument of rustics, dearheart…”

“I know. But it makes such sweet music….”

3

Puck found the Princess to be a quick learner with dexterous fingers. She also had a good ear for tone. As the lesson progressed, she came to sit closer to him. At last their faces were inches apart. She was lovely, with skin white as the snow in the field and hair dark as night. Her large eyes were inquiring and receptive. Puck could hardly help himself. Amy closed her eyes and parted her lips. But just as the faun went to steal a kiss, an angry Unicorn tore out of the forest.

“Get thee back!” he hollered.

Puck dropped the flute and recoiled. He was not privy to being impaled.

“Be suave, creature!” Puck exclaimed. “There is no need for all that.”

“Unicorn!” Amy interjected. “Lower that. He was only teaching me music.”

“An ulterior motive, to be sure. Keep your distance from that thing, Amy.”

“Thing?” Puck cocked his head and hopped back onto the rock. In a spry gesture, he scuffed the older creature. “I am not the thing charging at an innocent little fae. I have done nothing wrong.”

“Yet,” the Unicorn hissed. “And innocent? That is a laugh.”

“Unicorn, please calm down,” Amy begged.

Puck batted his eyes to mock the enraged beast.

“I think I shall take leave so long as your nanny goat is in such a foal mood,” Puck replied.

“Those puns do not add up,” the Unicorn mumbled. “Goats? Foals?”

Puck kicked up the string of his flutes and caught the instrument in the air. “My lady,” he bowed to Amy before leaving the duo.

What an ornery Unicorn that was!

4

Now Amy was quite cross with her Unicorn.

“Why must you be so cantankerous to all male creatures?” she asked.

They were on the path by now and silence was uncomfortable.

“Not all. Only those who would ensnare you,” he corrected.

“I was not ensnared. I am no longer a child, I do possess some common judgment.”

“Then what did I just see?”

“A music lesson.”

“Fauns are notorious tricksters, Amy. Especially that one. That is Robin Goodfellow, an illusionist and seducer. He is a fae, and fae are not what they seem.”

“But, Unicorn, I was in no danger. He knew about you and—“

“I tell you, Amy. This world is littered by traps. You must not trust all just because they are nice. Niceness is not a sign of trustworthiness. You--“

Timed to near-perfection, the ground beneath the Princess’ feet gave way. A shriek sounded out and she disappeared into the Earth. The Unicorn jumped around, but too late to stop her fall.

“Amy! Are you hurt?”

“Ouch…” her little voice groaned from below. The hurt radiated from the arm she had fallen on. But what troubled her most was how high above her the Unicorn’s face hovered. “My arm…it hurts…”

“Remain calm, Princess. We shall find a way to lift you out.”

As she looked about the hunter’s trap, she saddened to see how steep, how cruel and how barren it was. Her basket had taken the fall with her. She foraged through it for items. She had packed supplies for the woodsman friend she was headed to visit. All he owned were tattered garments, so she had thought to bring him fresh linen. Though it hurt her right hand to use the fingers, she began to tie a tight rope with it. Years of sewing and crafts had taught her to create good knots. It was also not the first time she created a makeshift rope from sheets.

“I’m making a rope! Would you be able to pull it?”

“I shall try!”

With a deep breath she went to it, hoping to beat the darkness of the night.

Just as dusk arrived the top of the rope flew out of the hole and the Unicorn grabbed it.

“Tie it about yourself,” he instructed her.

She obeyed, tying it about her small waist. She was only a young thing, a girl who had just bloomed into a maiden, so there was not much to her. She held a strong hope that the Unicorn would be able to pull her out. He would have to use his teeth, for he had no hands to pull or tie around. Not surprisingly, the small and mighty creature failed for this reason. He was a beast of precision and endurance, nimble but not built with the human advantage of fingers. Nor were his jaws and teeth made for hauling.

“I must fetch the castle guards, Amy,” he told her.

“No! Please! I will be punished mercilessly, Unicorn! My father thinks I am sewing to-day!”

The Unicorn sighed. Amy’s father was a mortal of two natures. One loved and cherished his daughter and the other was unreasonably cruel.

“I shall return directly, Princess. Scream if you shall need me before then.”

As she heard the galloping, true terror seized her. She was alone and trapped.

5

Puck had finally found and procured another peaceful area to enjoy his day off of Fairy Court duties. He was attempting to tune a new handmade ocarina when none other than the grumpy Unicorn called “Gelding” arrived. With a huff, Puck spoke “What is the matter now? Was my out-of-tune instrument playing a crime against virtue?”

“You dullard. I need your help. I need someone with hands,” the Unicorn replied.

“Nooo  thank you, kindly. I am done with four-legged beasts.”

The Unicorn made an expression, the version of an eye-roll among beasts.

“Rid your mind of buggery for one moment. Amy has fallen into a hunter’s trap. We need your help or else I will have to tell her father’s men where she is and she shall be punished harshly. Have sympathy on her, not me.”

Puck’s ears had lifted in alarm. He stood without further inquiry. “Of course. Tell me where and I shall help as I can.”

He followed the creature into the shadow-riddled forest. The said hole gaped near a distinctly crooked tree. A sure choice of a hunter. Puck found a carving in it as well.

“You did not see the marking?” he asked the Unicorn.

“She and I were speaking, too absorbed in conversation to see it,” the Unicorn confessed.

When Puck peeked into the hole he saw the dirtied Princess looking up at him. “One moment, love. We shall figure something out.”

The fae circled the hole and tried the rope. He gestured for the Unicorn to hold still and tied it to him bridle-style. He then led the beast to a tree.

“Pull around the tree. It will help. But move slowly. We must be gentle on the knots.”

“And then give it time to come undone?” the Unicorn did not hide his skepticism for the plan.

“Should it come undone, then we will simply try again,” Puck replied. “I can conjure light, even if it should take all night. No need to be a Negative Nathaniel, Unicorn.”

The Princess’ frustration was shrieked finally. “Won’t somebody help me! Unicorn, you are right! Traps are everywhere. You are wise but will you please, please, please stop obsessing over it! Sometimes I feel like you don’t even love me for who I am, but what I am. A virgin…” her voice grew teary.

The Unicorn hung his head.

“Alright, Goodfellow. Let us try your plan,” he told the faun.

“Princess,” Puck called down to her“Try to walk up the wall as you elevate. It will help us.”

Puck smacked the Unicorn’s rump and grinned. “Heave!”

The beast rolled his eyes and began to pull as instructed while Puck aided by pulling the rope from the mouth of the hole.  It took some patience, most of all on Amy’s part. The two males were startlingly strong for their delicate builds. The Unicorn was no bigger than a small male deer and Puck was rather thin, certainly not on the muscular side.  Amy was a slight thing, fragile as she looked and this also aided them.

At last Puck wrapped and arm around her and pulled her to the forest floor. She held to him for support, her heart pounding, tears falling with relief.

6

Amy became grateful for the medicine Puck gave her once she was out of the hole. It stopped the arm from aching so much and casts the experience in an oddly comical light.

“It isn’t called a satiric mix for nothing,” he had commented when she began to giggle.

As she rode the Unicorn’s back home she was giggling madly.

“Do you think I shall need a cast for the arm?” she laughed. “It feels like a bone broke! Crunch! Heheheheheh! What am I going to tell Father? Maybe that I fell down the stairs? Pfffttt! Like anyone would believe that! Puck said you need to stop saying platitudes, Unicorn. Whenever you do things like this happen to prove your point!” she cackled into the sunset as the disgruntled Unicorn groaned “Goodfellow…grrrrrah.”