The hand which was nearest him was my right. Holding on to the cliff
with my left, I took from my pocket, with my right, the thread which
the sorcerer had given me, and cleared the loop so that I could drop it
over the creature’s head without tangling. I leaned across the bowlder
toward him, keeping very quiet, and brought my right hand with the loop
so close to him that I could have touched him. With that hand I held
the loop above his head and began to lower it. It came down closer and
closer; it reached the top of his head; I held my breath; my eyes were
fixed on his; I lowered the loop another inch or two, until it came
to his curved beak, without touching him; and I was about to drop it
over his neck,--when suddenly he flapped his wings and fluttered his
feathers all together; and all the little metal plates on his body
striking one another gave off a rattling discharge of sharp reports, so
violent that I thought the cliff was being blown to pieces. I jumped
with fright, and scarcely refrained from uttering a cry; but I held my
tongue, and dropped the loop around his neck.
Instantly the metal feathers were still and the noise ceased, and the
owl turned his head slowly toward me and stared straight into my face;
and as he gazed at me, all at once it came to me that I had dropped
the noose with my right hand instead of my left. I was aghast at my
mistake. I tugged at the thread frantically, but the owl did not
budge. I began to grow dizzy. My arm tingled and grew numb. Everything
turned black before my eyes. I could not remember where I was. I
swayed and lost my balance; I felt myself falling; I clutched wildly
for support, but touched nothing; I felt myself falling through space,
falling, falling, as a person falls in a dream, for hours as it seemed,
sick and dizzy. Only once did I touch anything, and then I felt in my
knee a sharp pain, and was conscious that I was bleeding from a cut;
and then I knew no more.
When I came to myself, I was standing at the foot of the cliff, where I
had commenced my ascent. I looked upward, and wondered that I was alive
after such a fall. As my eye traveled downward and rested on the circle
of white stones above me I noticed in their center a little splotch of
blood, evidently from my knee where it had been cut in my fall; and as
I continued to look, the splotch grew into a blood-red flower, waving
on a long stem. I felt a strange desire to take the flower in my teeth
and tear it.
_Alb Sees in the River the Reflection of a Unicorn_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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