nothing but watch in horror as they both tumbled down the sloping road.
Robin, being lighter, stopped way before Amabel, who struggled to her feet only once she reached a level stretch. Cold terror drenched me when I saw the blood covering her right hind leg where the bull had gouged her.
Seeming to care nothing for it, she snorted loudly as she lowered her head, watching the bull thundering down the slope at heart-bursting speed.
She meant to meet it head on with her horn!
But if arrows didn’t pierce its skin, a unicorn horn would snap upon impact.
I threw myself before her, waving frantically. “No! You can’t run this one through, Mabily. Don’t even try!”
She wouldn’t budge, and I floated onto her back, pouring everything I had into steering her away. But the bull was already almost on top of us, and she couldn’t dodge it completely. It slammed into us again, and I let out an enraged scream, helpless to do anything to keep it from hurting my unicorn. Any more of this, and it would kill her!
Despite her injury, Amabel galloped away, weaving through the intersecting roads. She was pulling ahead, until we burst into a square full of people. There was no way they’d get out of the way in time, and that bull would gore dozens on its way to us. There was nothing I could do but scream warnings as I tried to steer Amabel round a corner, hoping to hide until the bull passed.
She rounded the corner, only to turn and go back. She’d only been maneuvering her way to another showdown with the bull!
Ignoring my pleas, she galloped on. She was going to ram directly into the bull. Her horn versus his. And I knew she’d lose. He’d kill her.
Tears of helplessness and terror burned me to my recesses as I screamed and screamed for her to stop.
The bull was a few heartbeats away from pulverizing my Mabily, when it suddenly screeched to a halt, its hooves tearing tracks into the road. It was only then my mind understood what I’d seen. A hail of arrows had just bounced off its right flank.
Robin had caught up with us, was letting more arrows fly as he shouted, “I’m the one you’re after!”
The arrows hit the bull’s head, and with a petrifying bellow, it stampeded straight for Robin. Robin who only tucked his bow back, and shot straight towards it.
Torn between confusion and horror, I screamed incoherently.
Robin only sped ahead, meeting the bull halfway as it charged at full speed, head lowered. I couldn’t even close my eyes so I wouldn’t see the moment it impaled him and ended his incredible, unique existence.
Then the moment came and I couldn’t credit what I saw. Robin leaped into a somersault and gripped its horns. Arcing over it, he landed on its back.
The bull came to another grinding halt, as if unable to understand what had just happened. It and me both.
But the respite was over too soon, and it began to buck violently. Robin seemed to have fused his hands to its horns, keeping himself on top despite its rabid attempts to throw him off.
My voice came apart with agitation as I floated nearer. “Wh–what are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” Robin yelled, in between breathless grunts. “Keeping it from crushing your unicorn!”
“What are you planning to do once it throws you off?”
“Kill it. How? I don’t know—yet!”
“Why won’t arrows pierce its skin? Is it made of metal?
“Now I’m here I can tell you it’s not.” He let go of one horn to draw another arrow, stabbing the beast’s head. It snapped in half, and only made the bull redouble its efforts to buck Robin. “I don’t feel any enchantments, either. But its hide might as well be armored!” He resumed his two-handed hold on its horns, attempting to steer it. “Any ideas?”
“Me?” I goggled at him.
“Yes, you! I’m having a hard time thinking now, so if you have any theories—I need to hear them.”
“Wh–why would I have any? I’ve never been up against anything like this.”
“You and I both know that’s a lie! You survived ghouls—and helped us survive them. And you knew how to defeat the earth giant. You can do far more than you give yourself credit for.”
But I’d had a lot of help surviving the ghouls. And the earth giant had been a lucky observation, helped with knowledge drilled into me from childhood.
“Just jump off, Robin, please,” I begged. “We’ll go back to the