Doctor Who_ Cats Cradle_ Witch Mark - Andrew Hunt [14]
Stuart stepped out of the light drizzle into the cool stable. He took the bucket from Mrs Tremayne, put it on the floor and dropped the ropes into it. After he had taken the bottle out of his pocket and placed it against the bucket, he took off his jacket and shirt and handed them to her. She hung them over the stable door as, kneeling in the straw, he scrubbed his arms clean. From the bottle he poured a viscous blob of gel into his hand and then, holding the tail up out of the way with the other, he eased it into the horse.
'How did it get that cut on its head?' he asked. He could immediately feel that the foal was presented wrongly and so he withdrew his arm and reached for one of the ropes. He looked up at Mrs Tremayne to see if she had heard.
She pointed up at the stable roof which was made of sheets of corrugated metal whose edges were somewhat the worse for wear. 'Caught it on that, didn't he, she said, indicating a particularly vicious-looking piece.
Stuart slipped his arm back in and tried to get the loop in the rope over one of the forelimbs. 'You ought to do something about that,' he told her, but all the same, he wasn't convinced that it could have done the damage that he had seen. The first loop went over the soft hoof and he eased it up the leg. Once again, he pulled his arm out and took another rope. 'Can you just give me a bit more ... ?' he asked, tilting his head towards the bottle. She took it and slopped some of the gel on to his hand. 'And could you hold the tail?' he asked. She took it, as he pushed his arm back into the womb and worked for a couple of minutes at putting the rope round the other leg. It eventually went on, and he took out his arm and pulled on the ropes.
He could feel the foal moving and he could imagine it round to face its point of exit. And then, suddenly, two spindly legs were sticking out. The head followed before they were than halfway out and then the perfectly formed foal was lying on the straw in front of him. Quickly he cleaned the slime the foal's nostrils. It was breathing nicely and the mare turned and began to lick at it.
Stuart sat back on the straw, and as he did so his hand rested on something lying concealed there. Not sure why, he took object without looking and slipped it into his pocket. 'Just keep an eye on it and make sure it begins to suckle, Tremayne,' he said. 'I'll just go and get cleaned up.' When he returned the foal was standing waveringly, its umbilical cord broken now, and Mrs Tremayne was beaming at it with pleasure. She thanked him and followed him to his car.
'Are you sure I can't do something about that wound?' he asked.
'No, no,' she said, 'I'm sure it'll be all right.' She stood her gate and as she reached the bottom of the drive, he glanced in his mirror and saw that she was still there.
He was through Llanfer Ceiriog before he remembered the object in his pocket. He pulled over on one side of the road and took it out.
It was about four inches long, tapering to a point at one end. The other end was cracked and splintered as though it had been broken off something. It was an off-grey colour and was of the same material as a horse's hooves. There was no doubt in Stuart's mind. It was a unicorn's horn.
He put it back into his pocket, started the car and set off back to Gwydyr. He passed two people walking up the road, but the barely registered on his sight. A unicorn, who would believe it? He wasn't sure that he did, but there was the horn and the place on the horse's head where it looked as though it had come from. Hardly conclusive, but Stuart could almost see the creature in his mind's eye, pounding across the mountains of Wales. But there was something else tugging at his thoughts.
When he pulled up outside his surgery, he leaned over to the back seat and picked up the latest issue of the Veterinary Record