Boots 13

They stood side by side, eyes fixed on Eric, who was about halfway between the two rooftops now, dog-paddling bravely. Now and again he would stall but his legs never stopped.

“He’ll be okay,” said Mike. “He’s gonna make it.”

“I know,” said Eleanor, but they could both see that the unicorn was tiring. Every time he stalled, he lost altitude. If only Night was here, to give him a mental boost. Suddenly a blinding light appeared over the other rooftop and shot Eric forward and up on its beam. Next came the Sun’s cheery face, rising slowly over the wall. Eleanor and Mike jumped out of the way and the unicorn landed on the roof between them.

And promptly collapsed.

“Oh, no!” cried Eleanor, remembering what Night had said about the highly strung and delicate nature of unicorns and of Eric in particular. She knelt down beside him and rested her head on his chest. Yes, still breathing; heart beating disturbingly fast but beating none-the-less.

“He’s just fainted. He’ll be okay,” said Mike.

“No! This could kill him! He can’t handle stress! His heart’s beating way too fast!”

She looked up, tears streaming unashamedly down her face. And saw Mike’s face. She’d only seen part of his face before, when Lightning had knocked him out and flipped open his visor. And there’d been that strange feeling then. But now he’d taken off his helmet and she could see all of his face and that strange feeling was back, stronger than ever.

“I’m sorry,” said Mike, reaching across with a clean handkerchief he’d pulled out of one of the pockets of his rat-black leather jacket. “This is all my fault. I didn’t mean to scare him.”

“I know you didn’t,” sniffled Eleanor, dabbing at her cheeks with the hanky, behind which a rosy blush was rising. All those angry feelings towards him were being swept away by this other, more powerful feeling. She turned her attention back to Eric, placed her hands gently around his head and murmured soothingly to him. About how brave he was, how wonderfully he flew, how he was all safe now and nobody was going to hurt him, especially not Mike …… soothing stuff like that.

At the same time, across the sea, in Granny’s kitchen, Furball was licking the last of his breakfast from his bowl.* He leapt onto the window ledge where Granny sat, a mug of strong Aussie Breakfast tea held in her hands. They sat in silence a while, watching the sunrise. Then Granny said: “Stop looking at me like that, you daft Furball. I’m not at all worried about Ellie. I had a dream. Ellie’s got a Guardian Angel watching over her.”

Furball continued with his ablutions. He knew better. When it came to little Ellie, Granny always worried.


part 1


  • organic rolled oats porridge, with fresh milk, a sprinkle of brewers yeast and a dollop of rich full cream, same as Granny’s except for the manuka honey drizzled on hers

Boots 13

Alenka Co

Stonebow, Australia

  • Artwork Comments 1

Artwork Comments

  • JRGarland
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.