Gift of the Unicorn

Randel’s heart was pounding in her ears. She was standing in front of her bunkhouse. There were voices coming from inside. Was it hot out here? Randel was sweating profusely.

“I can do this,” she told herself, steeling her nerves.

The door opened with a long creak, and everyone inside fell silent. Morris wasn’t here, but all eyes were on Randel. None of the other guys wanted to say anything. Randel gulped and took a shaky step inside.

“I’m just here to collect my stuff,” she mumbled.

A few guys nodded. None of them would look at her. They remained silent while Randel packed her blanket and bow into her large wooden chest and heaved it up off the ground. Randel was shaking from nerves, but it was also taking more effort to lift the trunk than it used to.

Nobody offered to help, but Randel didn’t want any. She took a deep breath and sighed in relief once she was out the door. Things were still going to be awkward when she returned, but that was at least a week away and not worth worrying too much about just yet.

“It’s not that far to Ro's house,” Randel told herself, “I don’t need help to get there.”

The village had never felt very big to Randel when she was a young boy. But suddenly having to haul a heavy chest all the way to Rohesia’s home was a new perspective. It wouldn’t have even been a problem if Randel had the strength she used to, but in addition to removing all her scars and callouses the magic had stripped Randel of her hard-earned muscle. She was going to have to start training all over again.

“No I won’t,” she reminded herself, “I’m going to be turned back to normal in a week or two. If other women can live like this, so can I.”

She passed by several people on her way to Rohesia’s hut. It was getting late in the day and people were mostly headed home, but Randel got plenty of stares. She found herself sweating again. Were they staring because they recognized her or because she was lugging a large wooden chest across town? Probably the former, and it made her want to vanish.

“Do you need some help?” some man asked.

“Please!” Randel squeaked, struggling not to drop the trunk.

As they walked, the man asked some questions of her, and Randel tried to keep it to one- or two-word answers whenever possible. He seemed to get the hint and gave up on conversation. Randel kept her head down, ashamed. She should have been able to carry her own things.

“Thank you,” she mumbled when they arrived outside Rohesia’s home.

The man nodded and replied, “Don’t mention it, miss,” before turning and walking away.

Randel felt herself blush a little again. He was awfully polite to her. It felt nice. Nobody had ever called her…

She shook her head and knocked rapidly on the door.

“About time!”

The door swung open and Rohesia stood there with a broad smile.

“I’ve got a bed set up for you already,” she said, lifting Randel’s trunk with ease, “Come inside.”

Rohesia had set a small straw mattress and pillow close to the front door. It didn’t give Randel any privacy, but it was still a place to sleep away from her father. Rohesia sat the chest by the mattress and turned to face Randel.

“I’ll need to talk to some people tomorrow about getting enough food for the both of us. Otherwise, I think everything is taken care of. We’ll start your training in the morning, before I have to head out with the squad to hunt.”

“Thank you for this, Ro,” Randel said, close to tears, “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Rohesia looked uneasy.

“Like I said, no crying,” she said, “Get to sleep soon. You probably won’t be able to sleep through me making breakfast, and I get up early.”

“Thank you,” Randel said again softly.

“Goodnight, Randel.”

She retreated to her own room. Randel pulled the blanket out of her chest and laid down, still fully dressed. For a while, she just stared at the antlers and hunting bows lining the walls, lost in thought. There was no telling what the next week would bring, but she was grateful just to have a place to sleep.

Rohesia had been right about Randel not being able to sleep through breakfast. Randel had difficulty just sleeping through the night. A combination of her unfamiliar body and uncertain situation kept her mind reeling. So she found herself yawning as she scarfed down breakfast.

“As soon as you’re ready, we can begin your training,” Rohesia said, pulling one of her heavier bows down from the wall.

“I’m ready now,” Randel said, “Let me just wash this plate.”

She had changed out of her clothes from the night before. Her shirt, which used to sit just a little loose, was practically a tunic on her now, and she had to keep her pants up with a belt or they’d fall off. Randel couldn’t even wear her own shoes; she was borrowing a pair from Rohesia and they were still a little too big for her.

“Do you really think,” Randel continued, as she finished scrubbing her plate, “that I’ll be able to join the squad on a hunt before I’m changed back?”

“We’ll see how well you do.”

Rohesia brought Randel out to the hunting cabin. Several archery targets were set up for the hunters to practice on. Randel had blisters on her feet but refused to complain. She was grateful that Rohesia was helping her at all.

Rohesia disappeared into the cabin and returned with a quiver of arrows for Randel. Randel took her normal position and pulled an arrow from the quiver. As soon as she drew the string, though, Randel could tell that something was wrong. It just felt… off.

Randel took a long, slow, deep breath and released the arrow. It few wide, missing the target entirely. She could feel the hair stand up on the back of her neck. When Randel turned to look at Rohesia, she was shaking her head and frowning.

“Your form is all off,” she said, “I guess it makes sense. Your body is… smaller now. I just hoped we wouldn’t have to start over from the beginning.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out, I promise,” Randel assured Rohesia.

“With my help, you certainly will,” Rohesia told her, stepping forward to show her what to do.

With her prior training to draw from, Randel had an easier time than a complete beginner would. She had difficulty aiming now that she was shorter, and the bowstring fought her a lot harder now that she wasn’t as strong. Still, she managed to hit the side of the target with just a few more attempts.

“Do better!” Rohesia barked, “You can’t graze an animal and expect it to do anything but get away!”

Randel took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves. Ro could be a tough teacher, but that was why her students were the best. With time, Randel must have forgotten how intense it was, because this felt harsher than she remembered. Unless she had simply gotten more easily frazzled since her transformation.

“Watch again,” Rohesia said, drawing her bowstring effortlessly and releasing the arrow in one smooth motion.

Naturally, her arrow found its mark close to the center of the target. Randel couldn’t help but smile. Rohesia wasn’t a large woman, but she had the strength of a wild bear, and was tough enough to match. Randel was lucky to have her as a teacher, but there was a pit forming in her stomach. She was having so much difficulty that she shouldn’t, that Rohesia didn’t.

She drew her bow again.

“Pull the string harder!” Rohesia told her.

“I… can’t.”

Rohesia cried, “I don’t believe you, Randel! Harder!”

Randel’s hand slipped and the string snapped, jerking the bow out of her hands. She closed her eyes and sniffed, trying not to cry. Then she buried her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry! I’m not strong enough.”

After a moment, she heard Rohesia walk up to her, and felt hands on her shoulders.

“You’re strong enough, Randel. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that. You wouldn’t be my pick to replace me as the squad leader if I didn’t believe that. You’re going to get through this, I promise. But it’s going to be hard.” She paused. “Are you going to be okay?”

Randel nodded, but wouldn’t lift her head. She didn’t want Rohesia to see her covered in tears. Rohesia let go of Randel.

“That’s enough for today. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright, Randel. You’re just starting over. You already know what you’re really capable of. We just need to nurture that strength. Now run along.”

Randel nodded and wiped her face clean. She passed the quiver back to Rohesia and took a deep breath, then smiled weakly. They nodded briefly to each other and Randel turned to head back into town.

It wasn’t long before Randel found herself at the edge of the forest again, this time standing in front of a small stone hut with a smoking chimney. This was Aldith’s home, which she shared with Stace. Aldith had asked her to come so Stace could get started helping her adjust to her new, temporary life.

Randel knocked with a shaky hand. There was a moment where nothing happened, then Randel heard a latch moving. The door opened just a crack and a young woman peaked out to see who had arrived. Discovering it was Randel, Stace scowled and opened the door further.

“There’s not much room inside. I can’t invite you in,” she said tersely.

Randel peaked around Stace to get a look inside the one-room building. It did indeed look cramped. The place was filled with clutter: books, papers, bowls, herbs hanging from the ceiling. There was a cauldron on the fire, so it must have been sweltering.

Aldith was nose-deep a book, but set it aside when she saw who had arrived and walked up.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, “I think having an escort will be a lot of good for you. You’ll definitely feel better if you have someone to talk to while everyone adjusts to the new you.” Turning to Stace, she continued, “He’s in a very vulnerable position. Please take this responsibility seriously.”

“Yes ma’am,” Stace mumbled.

“Good. Now go on, find something to do.”

Stace folded her arms and started walking towards the town gate. Randel followed, not sure what she should say. This was a complete stranger and clearly Stace did not want to be here with her.

“You need clothes that fit. We’re going to visit the tailor.”

“Oh, um, actually, I really need shoes. These don’t fit me very well and my feet hurt.”

Stace grunted in reply. Randel scowled. Why was she being so standoffish? Stace could at least try to act cordial.

When they arrived at the tailor’s workshop, Stace knocked briefly on the front door and entered. Randel followed, gazing around the shop. Shelves around the walls were filled with fabrics dyed various colors. Several counters were set up with pieces of fabric and tools scattered about. Half a dozen wooden mannequins in various stages of dress were gathered toward the back of the shop.

The tailor, a larger middle-aged man, was working on one of these mannequins when Stace and Randel entered. He stood up and walked over to greet the two of them. Randel was immediately struck by how warm his chestnut eyes were.

“Hello Miss Stace,” he said, “And who’s this? I don’t recognize her.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Hamon,” Stace replied with surprise warmth, “This is Randel, the chief’s son. You heard what happened to him?”

“Ah… yes. You want me to make new clothes for him?”

Stace nodded, but Randel cleared her throat and replied, “Actually, if you have any spares lying around that are roughly my size, I can take those. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Nonsense, boy. Come here and we’ll start measuring.”

Randel squirmed a little bit. Stace glared at her and gestured for Randel to follow the instructions. So Randel gulped and tried to steel her nerves. She stood where Hamon instructed and he started using a rope to measure various parts of her body.

It wasn’t like she’d never been fitted before, but this somehow felt way more intimate. Normally, Randel’s body felt like something that was distantly present, as if it weren’t really connected to her. But that disconnect was gone now. This very much felt like her body was part of her now and it was nerve-wracking.

Is this what most people felt all the time, or was there something wrong with Randel now?

“Breathe, boy,” the tailor said, “We’re almost done.”

Randel let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding.

“I know that this must be uncomfortable for you,” Hamon continued, “If I suddenly had to be in the body of a woman, I’d be unhappy too.”

“That part isn’t so bad, actually,” Randel admitted quietly, “It’s still my body, either way. I’m more worried about how other people are going to react to me.”

“Hmm…” Hamon stopped measuring and finished jotting down his notes. “Well, it’s good to hear that you aren’t miserable, I suppose.”

“Just nervous.”

The tailor nodded and continued, “I could have a basic set of shirt and pants by tomorrow, but for now if you want I can indeed spare a few extra clothes. Take a look in those trunks over there and see if anything fits you.”

“Thank you very much, Mister Hamon.”

“Just Hamon, boy.”

“Please, call me Randel.”

Hamon nodded and gestured toward the chests in the room, inviting Randel to search. Randel grabbed a few things that looked her size and slid into the other room to try clothes on. Finally, she managed to find a plain blue wool shirt that was only a little tight on her and a pair of hide pants that just needed to be rolled up a little bit to fit her.

“I’m ready,” she said, emerging back into the main room.

“Great,” Stace said, “Let’s see if the cobbler is busy.”

Visiting the cobbler was a less harrowing experience, if only because Randel wasn’t having her entire body measured. The cobbler promised to have something in a couple of days. Randel groaned at the thought of her blisters getting worse before she had proper fitting shoes again.

As they walked through the village, Randel was keenly aware of everyone’s eyes on her. She couldn’t help but try and make herself small every time she caught someone staring. It kept her so preoccupied that she didn’t pay attention to where they were going.

“Come on,” Stace said, entering the tavern before Randel could protest.

The tavern was dim and reeked of mead. At this time of day, there weren’t many people around, and Randel sighed in relief. Stace was at the bar, talking to the green-eyed bartender about their own age when Randel took a seat next to her.

“Why are we here?” she demanded.

“You need to get used to being seen,” Stace said tersely, “I’m only your escort for the first week. You can’t be this uncomfortable forever.”

Randel snapped, “I’m only uncomfortable because everyone else is! If people treated me like normal, I wouldn’t have a problem!”

Stace grunted in reply. The bartender handed her a drink while Randel sat deep in thought. Eventually, Randel got herself a drink as well, and it seemed to help her nerves.

“Hey,” she began, “Do you think people would be more comfortable around me if I acted more like a woman?”

Stace raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is that what you want?”

“Might as well,” Randel replied with a shrug, “I have to get used to this, don’t I?”

“Alright… first off, sit up straight.”

Randel did so.

“You’re serious about this?” Stace asked. “Alright.”

Stace had Randel stand up, then showed her how to hold herself and how to walk, as well as the proper way to hold her arms to make herself look more feminine. She gave Randel some pointers on how to act more feminine in conversation without coming across as too submissive. Randel focused on the lesson with the same intensity she brought to learning the bow.

“Now we just need to test you out,” Stace finally said.

She led Randel to a group of men and women who had entered the tavern recently.

“Hello,” she said, “May we join you? I’m Stace and this is Randel.”

The group made some room for the two of them to sit, and Randel took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

“Randel?” someone asked, “The chief’s son? The one who was cursed?”

Holding onto what she just learned, Randel smiled softly and replied, “Yes, that’s me. Though I don’t think I’d call it a curse. Just a temporary setback.”

Some of the people at the table shifted uncomfortably, and Randel’s heart sank. What was she doing wrong? She was trying her best!

The conversation continued, but Randel didn’t say anything more. Occasionally someone would cast a nervous glance at her, and Randel’s heart would break all over again. She eventually gave up and took her drink back to the bar. Stace followed her.

“I was afraid of this,” Stace mumbled.

“Why do they hate me?” Randel asked.

“They don’t,” Stace said, “They just aren’t used to you, yet.”

“Then why do you hate me?”

Stace sighed, then replied, “I don’t hate you either, Randel. I just… have a job already. This isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing. Honestly, I think people see me as a laughingstock for having to shepherd you around.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Stace asked.

“Yeah. If I hadn’t transformed, you wouldn’t be here.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I still feel bad for you.”

Stace grunted in reply.

“Thank you,” Randel said, “for trying to teach me how to be a girl. Even if it didn’t work.”

A new, gruff voice asked, “Teaching you what?”

Randel’s stomach turned as she turned around to face her father.

“Randel,” Hann growled, “I recognize that you need someone to help escort you around town. But never forget that you are a man and must act like one.”

Then, to Randel’s horror, Hann raised his voice and addressed the entire tavern.

“I expect everyone in this village to recognize my son for the man he always has been!” he cried out, “Anybody who dares to demean him by treating my son as a woman will have to answer to me!”

Randel swore quietly, covering her mouth with her hands. Hann gave one last glaring look at her before turning around and swiftly leaving the tavern. Stace placed a hand on Randel’s shoulder and Randel groaned.

“How did he even find us?” Randel asked quietly.

“Just bad luck,” Stace answered, “But don’t mind him. I’ll order us more drinks and—”

“No!” Randel cried, surprising even herself, “I just want to go back home.”

Stace was quiet for a moment, then nodded. They left the tavern silently side by side. Randel folded her arms and bowed her head.

“I’m sorry about your father.”

“It’s not your fault,” Randel said, squinting so she wouldn’t cry.

“But like you said, I still feel bad about it.”

Randel managed to smile a tiny bit, then replied, “Thank you for today.”

“Well, we’d better get used to each other,” Stace replied, smiling softly.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Randel admitted, a few tears running down her cheeks, “It feels like nobody is ever going to be comfortable around me again.”

Stace assured her, “They’ll change with time. And I believe that you’re strong enough to face this hurdle.”

“You barely know me.”

“That’s how strong you are,” Stace said, winking, “I can tell just from a single day.”

Randel chuckled.

“Thank you. That helps.”

Stace held out her arms to offer a hug. Randel could feel heat rising in her cheeks; nobody had offered to hug her since she was a small child. She accepted the gesture.