It was lucky they had brought so many ways to cut things.

It would have been convenient if Adelaide had known how many different cutting implements they had before she collected a bunch of firewood using a pocketknife, but whatever. It was more important now.

They were standing in front of one of the fern trees which had both the obvious gouges and the smaller carvings that Trish had identified. And Ray was holding what was essentially a small chainsaw, and waiting for Trish to give the final go-ahead.

She nodded, and he began the blades spinning, preparing to cut a wedge out from the trunk right below where the gouges had been made. But Adelaide didn’t even have to wait for the blade to make contact before her prediction paid off.

As soon as the sound started, two of the little lizard guys Adelaide had seen on her way to the node popped out of a hole near the flower on the top of the fern and jumped to an adjacent tree, where they scrambled into a small crevasse and disappeared.

“Did you see that?” Adelaide shouted over the chainsaw blades. “I told you they were in there! Ray, you can shut that off.”

Ray had already removed a chunk of the bark. When he pulled it away, Adelaide saw that the trunk wasn’t fully hollow but instead had grown a large tunnel that curved and broke off at various points. Ray had exposed it near a junction, and Adelaide could see two paths that splintered off.

Emma looked at the newly exposed passageway. “So there a little lizards living in the trees?”

“Yeah - Ray and I saw some when we were hiking, but I didn’t make the connection right away. But I think it’s pretty clear: the unicorns are chopping into these things to try to find the lizards. That’s what they’re eating. I bet if we looked at the other trees, we’d see that the gouges expose similar little internal tunnels.”

Emma nodded. “That makes sense, and it explains why the blade doesn’t face forward, so that they can saw effectively. But what does it matter?”

“Because the little guys are making the carvings, not the unicorns. They have the right kind of claws for it, and they can clearly get up higher.”

Trish turned to Adelaide. “So you think the little lizards are intelligent? And they’re writing to each other?”

Adelaide took a breath before responding. “No, I’m not saying that. A lot of animals make markings, like we were saying before — dogs peeing on trees and so on. And I certainly don’t know that it’s writing, like with a language. But, I mean, they seem more sophisticated than anything else we’ve seen, as far as I can tell. Look in here — you can see they use different tunnels for different things.”

Adelaide shined her phone’s flashlight in the tunnels so everyone who was interested could take turns see what she had noticed. There was one fork, running down and to the left, that was covered in fruit pulp, and you could barely see but easily smell a ripe mass of the stuff at the bottom. And, although the other fork quickly bent around again, it had parts of the front surrounding it in a way that suggested a nest.

“That sort of division of space seems a little sophisticated to me. And, although I don’t have any proof, I would bet that these guys killed the unicorn we saw, working together. But, I mean, I’m speculating.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Trish looked at the new incision in the trunk. “Ugh, now I feel bad about our cutting into their little house! So what would the writing mean?”

“I’m not saying it is writing, or that it means anything. It could be territorial, or it could be a way of tracking which trees have fruits on them — they don’t all seem to, but a lot do? I think it has to do with the flowers, but that doesn’t really matter. My point is, I think the unicorns are hunting these guys, and that’s only connection they have to the marks Trish noticed. Unless anyone has another view?”

Adelaide paused, but no one jumped in. Adelaide made eye contact with Trish, but Trish just sighed.

“Ok, then that’s settled, I think. Emma and Jim, let’s plan a hunt. Obviously no one has to participate, but I plan to.”

***

“So, how do you think I handled it?”

Adelaide hadn’t consciously sought Ray out when they got back to camp, but she had to admit she’d been glad to see him. There had been relative peace as the hunt was prepared, but Adelaide hesitated to let her guard down.

“Are you sure you aren’t a biologist, Professor?”

“Haha. But really, do you think that was the right tone? The right approach?”

“You know that better than me. You know Trish. You wouldn’t have left it where you did if you didn’t know she’d be ok.”

Adelaide nodded. “Maybe that’s right.”

“I think it is. But are you going to ask me the other question?”

“What other question?”

“Whether everyone bought that.”

Trish didn’t say anything.

Ray continued. “I mean, I think the lizard observation was very clever. But you know that all sorts of animals make nests and markings and even team up to hunt. And you were smart to get that out in the open. But it’s not the actual question, and I don’t think you tricked yourself.”

“I mean, the carvings were the thing that made us worry, right?”

“Yeah, but the question was whether the unicorns were intelligent. Even if the lizards are something close to it, that doesn’t answer the question. But I think you got everyone to act like there was a dichotomy. Even though smart prey might suggest a smart hunter.”

“Why didn’t you bring this up before?”

“Are you saying you didn’t think of it?”

“Jesus, Ray, is that what you think of me? Do you think I’d intentionally trick everyone?”

“What? No, I just … I didn’t mean to imply that. But it’s like once, a few years ago, I was Guiding and this sailor and I were on an island, scouting, and it just started to pour. Absolutely buckets and buckets. And we found some little rock to hide under and we were still soaking. And there’s just absolutely no way we can travel in this, the whole island was mostly mud already. So we are sitting there for most of an afternoon and an entire night, and the whole time he’s asking me how long we can be out there without missing out exit, and how long the group will wait for us, and on and on. And no one sleeps a wink, and we don’t even notice the sun rise until the rain stops, all of a sudden, and we realize it’s nearly noon.

“So we’re walking back and he is saying how lucky he feels, and how good it will be to be back. And I’m nodding and talking about the coffee I want, but all I can think about is that there was a river we went past for a while on the way out, and if it has spilled its banks or shifted course in that rain, we have no way to cross it. And I keep seeing all these trees that I’m pretty sure were standing the day before, and I’m sure we’re going to come across a river blocking us and… I just don’t say anything. I can’t freak him out, and we’re already on the route we’re on.

“That’s what I think you were doing. You didn’t mention something, because you knew it wouldn’t help anybody, and we’re already on our path. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Not at all.”

“So, you’re comfortable?”

“I’m with you. You looked at everything, and you made a decision. I’m going to be hunting right next to you. If you’re comfortable, I’m comfortable.”

Adelaide didn’t have a response to that.