The unicorn came limping into the village on three legs. The village doctor was summoned. “What happened,” the doctor wanted to know. “I twisted my hoof on some rocks down the road a ways.” The doctor manually checked for any obvious fractures, which was all he could do at the time. The magical creature had his leg done up in an ace bandage, before he knew it.
The doctor was absorbing the risk that the leg might not be broken. The unicorn didn’t know that. The doctor was trying to keep some information from the cousin of the gazelle, to keep the unicorn’s anxiety level down. If the doctor had shared that little tidbit of medical trivia with the cousin of the gazelle, the unicorn may have been more compliant about laying around the doctor’s clinic right off, but he may not have, too.
Minimum anxiety in the patient was the thing on the mind of the good doctor.
There were a few empty cots, where the in-firmed could rest themselves. The unicorn didn’t know it yet, but before the ordeal was finished, the cousin to the gazelle would be more than happy to ride one of those pallets indefinitely.
That mini-clinic was not equipped with an x-ray machine anyway. To get to an x-ray machine would have been a long and arduous journey for one, wounded unicorn, who was already nursing a bad leg. How could the unicorn walk under such conditions?
The doctor didn’t want the unicorn trudging around for hours, ever getting worse for the wear, by the time he could possibly get anywhere near as far as the other clinic. It was a no-win situation for the unicorn. He certainly couldn’t work under these circumstances.
Then, there were evil on-lookers. There was everything evil in the hearts of certain people.
The unicorn was on his way more comfortably, even though it was the doctor’s advice that he stay put. His leg felt better for the moment. Therefore, the unicorn would take license to hobble around the village in every direction. There were those who were part of the opinion that if a unicorn was a magical creature, he should certainly be able to work his own magic on his own leg.
Those people’s evil was a tangible thing, which would destroy the world, if it could.
Fortunately, the doctor had not been of a similar opinion. Those people were generally hostile, and not easily gotten along with, which was as obvious as the horn growing out of the head of that wounded unicorn’s face. Those people were put off by the idea that there was a creature, who was supposed to be magical, whose magic was not strong enough to suit them. They felt intimidated.
The village was a powder keg, with the most murderous things about to happen, to the unicorn, no less. Would you really call killing a unicorn murder, if it was only the life of some dumb animal, who had some exaggerated superstitions going on about him, whose questionable life lay in the balances? So, evil men plotted the execution of a unicorn. At first, the unicorn was unconcerned, but he came around. The unicorn was feeling like a freaky holiday.
He walked directly out into the bright morning sun. The magical creature felt exuberance and lightheartedness at first. There was no reason to feel anything remotely like pessimism, while the magical creature grew accustomed to the novel way his leg felt, with the ace bandage strengthening his leg the way it was. He still didn’t know if it was broken.
Then the unicorn’s leg let began to hurt him with a disarming discomfort after awhile.
The cousin of the gazelle was looking for a way to rest himself when there was none. After all, a leg injury is nothing to be taken as lightly as the unicorn was. If he were human, he’d be looking for a place to sit down, but the cousin of the gazelle was not human. He couldn’t understand what to do next, except to go back to the doctor’s clinic. He’d forgotten what the doctor said. He needed to pay more attention to the doctor’s directions. The unicorn wished he’d done that in the first place.
The doctor had the unicorn laying down on one of his pallets, in his infirmary, with the strict admonition that he needed to stay there and rest. He wasn’t to get up, regardless of how he felt. That was plain English. This time, the cousin of the gazelle did exactly what the doctor told him to do. He lay still as possible. The unicorn must have drifted off for awhile, because evening time was soon arriving. His cronies were nowhere to be found.
He was thinking he was just passing through this little village, to get to another village further down the road. The unicorn could sense the evil spirit of this village. He would have just moved on, had it not been for this infernal leg of his. He was at the mercy of some ruthless people who had no mercy to give. He could not hide and he could not run.
He knew those people were likely to hurt him, on general principles, but all he could do was hang out at the little clinic, without his cronies anywhere near by. His cronies were probably kicking around the village, looking for some kind of trouble to get themselves into, for fun. If they’d only known, there was plenty of trouble right here in this infirmary.
Those guys seemed to be a few rocket scientists, to have no clue what might be about happen.
The cousin of the gazelle was not really up to getting out onto the steppe this morning, to be sized up by a whole host of various creatures. He limped. The unicorn was not interested in taking his chances on the steppe, while he was limping, because it was.
By evening, the idea that he was incapacitated was a concept the unicorn was only just now, beginning to appreciate. The unicorn felt almost as if he was a partial person, as if his life was in mortal danger, in his current circumstances. Does the word insecurity come to mind?
The unicorn was doing the one thing he had to do. He was convalescing from his injury on a pallet in a clinic, but it took some significant effort for him to realize that he was every bit as much of an individual as any adversary was, injured or not. The unicorn was felt significantly vulnerable in his current situation, but he could defend himself if need be.
The cousin of the gazelle had every right to feel overly vulnerable. He felt significantly threatened by those men with the evil eyes. They hadn’t made any move whatsoever on him so far. The unicorn looked around the little room where his pallet was, for weapons, but the contents of the infirmary yielded little that was reassuring. There was no one in the room, but the fear was still eating the unicorn alive.
The unicorn made a decision, more out of vexation than anything else. He had never known a life of fear or dread. Why start now? He was not about to start a life of fear, not at that late date in life. The unicorn decided on a course of strength, if this were to have to be his final act. The unicorn did not change his position physically. The doctor ordered bed rest, and that’s what the doctor was going to get. Bed rest. He took a position of power.
The cousin of the gazelle changed his heart, and felt more wide awake and alert.
It was an exhilarating feeling, from someone who’d been depressed by an overwhelming fear of men he’d never even met. The unicorn set about changed his thinking and attitudes altogether, just because it felt so good to.
The unicorn was suddenly master of all his own thoughts and senses. He was master of his own fate, too. If the unicorn was about to be killed by hateful men, he could certainly enjoy his final few moments in life, with a sense of joy in his heart and pride in his soul.
You see, unicorns are not your average animal. They have a heart and soul, with plenty of pluck to go along with it. What goes around, comes around. Unicorns can think and reason for themselves. This unicorn was all through with playing punk for a couple of bullies.
The cousin of the gazelle drifted off to sleep again, as he had been doing throughout the day. In the morning, the doctor ordered another day of bed rest, to which the unicorn readily consented. The little magical person finally accepted the word of a doctor as being Gospel.
Unicorn’s cronies showed up in the infirmary with a little piece of interesting news. Apparently, two men they didn’t know, ventured out onto the steppe without rifles the other day. They were attacked by predators, and summarily killed and devoured.
The Unicorn had an idea those were the evil men he had feared, now neutralized completely. He considered this to be a personal response to prayer and he quietly uttered a prayer of gratitude that he’d quietly been delivered.
Neither one of the unicorns in that situation ever had a prayer, until the one who was laid up with a wounded leg offered a prayed. A good, healthy reverence for Almighty God took over, during that prayer. This was pleasing to the Great One.
The wounded unicorn prayed with all confidence and gratitude, before his cronies ever arrived at the clinic. He wanted to utilize his solitude to make the most of his prayer time. The utterances of his pure heart is what saved them all.
When one is given enough quiet time, one learns how to pray.
There was no disbelief in a threatened man’s prayer. Summoning his faculties around him was part and parcel of what had made that prayer, and the one’s before it, significant to Almighty God Himself. No one likes a sniveling coward, even God Himself.
The patient in that clinic had managed to marshal his internal forces around him, and the results were no less than remarkable. The unicorn became an impenetrable fortress, guarded by his own prayer life. The threat against the unicorn, personally, had been devoured on the steppe, by predators.
The patient was content to lay up on that pallet in that infirmary until the doctor said, “Get up.”
Remembering the feeling of his energy drain out of him, as he tried to walk around that village, was one thing that put the unicorn on his back, even under the threat of violence.
The other thing was that the unicorn had confidence in the ability of the doctor to heal him.