The Grimm Conclusion by Adam Gidwitz Page B

often fell behind, only to take a shortcut down an escarpment or through the thickest brush and arrive again just behind the chase.
    And so it happened that Fänger lost sight of the king’s horse, but saw the blood on the leaves, guessed where the unicorn was going, and turned aside. He ran as fast as he could, unhooking his hatchet from his belt, ducking under branches and leaping beds of ivy, until he came to a steep hill. He slid down the hill on his side, ripping up the roots and ferns as he fell, and came crashing to the ground in a clearing with a cliff on one side and the steep hill on the other. Standing at one end of the clearing was the little unicorn. The girl was draped over his back, her head against his neck, heaving raggedly. Both of them were covered in blood. At the other end of the clearing was the king. His arrow was nocked, his bow raised, his shoulders rising up and down, up and down.
    â€œI got ’em!” the king said aloud, grinning. “I got ’em!” His eyes narrowed. He pulled the bowstring back.
    â€œRun!” Jorinda screamed to the unicorn. But there was nowhere to go. The cliff was behind him, the steep hill to his side. He shook his long black head and pawed the ground.
    â€œRun!” Jorinda was crying now. “Please! Run! They’ll kill you!”
    The king said, “I’ll get the beast. Afterwards, Fänger, you get her.”
    â€œPlease,” the little girl wept. “Plea—”
    She stopped. She stared at the king.
    Or, perhaps, not at the king. Perhaps just behind the king.
    Fänger followed her gaze. “SIRE!”
    The king had just raised the bow to his face. The string was taut, the arrow ready. He heard his huntsman’s cry. He released the arrow, but the shot was high and wide. He heard the sound of hoofbeats crashing through the wood behind him. He turned.
    Fänger lifted his hatchet to hurl it.
    Too late.
    With the force of an explosion, the king was taken off his horse. A long black horn, smooth and twining and very, very sharp at the end, entered his back, passed through his spine, his lungs, and his heart, and emerged just under his chin.
    Fänger gaped as another great black horn emerged from the forest. The thunder of hooves was deafening. He tried to change his hatchet’s target, from the first beast to the second, but the creature was moving too fast. All Fänger could do was lift his arms to his face.
    The black horn went straight through his chest. He was driven backward, into the side of the steep hill, and the horn went so far through him that it stuck into the stony black earth.
    The two adult unicorns withdrew their horns from the corpses of the two men. Then they pranced around the clearing, shaking their heads, either searching for more enemies or warning others off. At last, they approached their little foal. Jorinda slid to the ground, smearing blood across his black, glistening flanks.
    The foal trotted to the adults and bowed his head, and they came up alongside him and nestled their muzzles in his neck. After a moment, the little unicorn extricated himself from the equine embrace and approached Jorinda. He put his soft nose next to her cheek. She closed her eyes.
    ----
    When she opened her eyes again, she saw the three unicorns disappearing into the forest.
    Jorinda stood in the center of the corpse-strewn, blood-drenched clearing. Blood flowed swiftly from her shoulder. Tears cut lines down her filthy cheeks.
    And the only thought she had was,
Even unicorns have parents.
    Then she fell to her knees and wept.
    Everyone okay out there?
    Are you sure?
    â€™Cause I’m just barely hanging on myself. . . .
    Okay?
    You sure?
    All right.
    Â 
    Here we go.

The Ivory Monkey

O nce upon a time, a boy wandered through distant lands. He traversed dark forests, he scaled enormous mountains, he waded through spring-swollen rivers, he sat on great rocks overlooking the sea.
    Something was