To her delight, she could!
I can make a whole canopy of this leaf stuff, then get ordinary leaves to stick to the outside so that this will look like a place that's been covered with vines! she decided, enthusiastically. It will probably all wilt in a day or two, but by then, we'll be gone!
She gathered more leaves and began making her green fabric of them, fitting leaf to leaf to make a waterproof seal, keeping her concentration narrowed in a way she had never been able to achieve when she was just flower-sculpting. She had so much of her mind fixed to the task in her hands, in fact, that she ignored everything else.
Right up until the moment that a twig snapped and she looked up into the mad orange eyes of a white alicorn.
It snorted at her, close enough for her to smell its hot breath. She froze, holding her own breath.
The long, spiral horn rising from the middle of its forehead kept catching her attention as the alicorn watched her. It gleamed softly, a mother-of-pearl shaft that started out as thick as her own slender wrist and tapered to a wickedly sharp point. The eyes, an odd burnt-orange color, like bittersweet berries, were huge, the pupils dilated. The head was fundamentally the same shape as that of a graceful, dainty horse, but the eyes took up most of the space where brains should have been. An overlong, supple neck led down to muscular shoulders; the forelegs ended in something that was part cloven hoof, and part claw. The hindquarters were as powerful as the forequarters, with feet that were more hoof-like. A long, flowing mane, tiny chin-tuft, and tufted tail completed the beast, with one small detail—
Which the alicorn displayed as it lifted its lip to sniff her scent. Inch-long fangs graced that dainty mouth, giving the true picture of the beast's nature.
It was a killer. They all were. That was why the elves had given up the task of making them into beasts of burden or war-steeds.
In a moment it would charge her, unless she thought of some way of preventing it.
A crackling of brush made the first alicorn raise its head, but not with any alarm. In a moment, she saw why, as the alicorn was joined by its—her—mate.
Now there was more than double the danger. A mated pair tolerated nothing that might be a threat within their territory.
She couldn't move to wake Lorryn. She dared not move to take up a weapon herself. She had none of the greater magics—
—but perhaps… the lesser?
It was the only weapon in her pitiful arsenal, that knack with birds and animals. Tentatively she reached out to the alicorn with her power, using only the gentlest of touches.
I am your friend. I would never harm you. I have good things to eat, and I know where to scratch.
The alicorn flicked her ears, and her mate raised his head a little to peer more closely at her.
I am your friend. You want to be my friend,
The alicorn's hide shuddered, and Rena watched in hope and fear as a wave of relaxation made all of its muscles go a bit slack.
Come be my friends, both of you.
Her magic drifted into their minds, subtle, like a whisper, changing just a tiny thing—that killer instinct, the urge to destroy anything that might prove dangerous. Their minds weren't any smaller than a pigeon's or a sparrow's. There was something there to work on. She half-closed her eyes, watching both of them, as her magic wove its way into what they were, soothing the too sensitive nerves, calming the wash of instant and hot emotions.
The mare took a tentative step toward her, the stallion followed. Carefully Rena reached into the pack beside her, and took out another piece of bread, breaking it in half. They didn't react to her movement, except for a slightly nervous flicking of their ears.
I have good things to eat. She held out both hands, each with a piece of bread in the palm, invitingly. She'd never yet seen a horse that could resist bread.
The stallion's nostrils flared as he took in the scent of the bread, and he shouldered the mare aside, coming to the fore. His eyes fixed first on her, then on the bread in her outstretched hand.
I will make you more good things to eat. While she worked her magic in their minds to tame them, she could not work another spell, but if this actually succeeded, she would be able to turn plain grass and leaves into alicorn treats. That would be a reasonable recompense for what she wanted out of them.
Come to me, come help me, and I will give you sweet treats to eat. I will keep you warm and dry, and I know all the right places to scratch. Flies will never bite you again. She wasn't actually sending thoughts into its mind, nor could she sense its thoughts the way Lorryn could, but her magic carried the promises she made to it, and somehow made it understand.
That, and the tiny gentling changes she wrought, were all that was needed.
The alicorn stallion made up his mind—now that she had made it up for him. He stepped forward, briskly, the mare right at his heels, and walked calmly right up to the edge of the shelter. He bent his long neck, and accepted the morsel of bread from her hand, his nose soft and velvety against her palm, and only the barest hint of the sharpness of his fangs touching her skin. A moment later, his mate did the same.
They both stood staring at her for a heartbeat or two longer, after the bread was gone. She could still lose them. They wouldn't attack her now, but she could still lose them. When she turned her magic loose, they could flee. Well, for that matter, they could simply walk away and she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Her magic just wasn't coercive; either they would serve her, or they would not.
She let go of their minds. She had done all that she could. If they were going to flee, they would do it now.
With a sigh, the stallion folded his long legs and lay down at her feet. The mare did the same, placing her head in Rena's lap. She looked up at Rena with eyes that were more brown now than orange, and she waited for Rena to make good on her promise of scratches.
Rena stretched out her hand and tentatively began to scratch the area at the base of the horn, reckoning that it was one place the alicorn couldn't reach for herself. The alicorn's coat was just as soft as it looked, much silkier than horsehair, though a bit longer as well. After a moment, the stallion stretched his head forward to get his own share of caresses.
When they both tired of having their horns, the area under their chins, and their ears scratched, Rena took leaves and began sculpting them, making them tender and enhancing the sugars in them. The alicorns accepted these new dainties with greed, eating until the area around the shelter had been denuded and their bellies were stuffed full.
Then they both laid their heads in Rena's lap again, and slept, one on either side of her, for all the world like a pair of huge homed pet hounds.
And when Lorryn woke, that was the sight that met his astonished eyes.
* * *
You're sure they'll bear us? Lorryn asked, dubiously. It was hard for him to even think of trusting an alicorn; their reputation was such that if he hadn't been too stunned to move, he'd have tried to kill both of these the moment he saw them. Only Rena's assurance that she had changed them made him—warily—trust them. After all, elven lords had tried for centuries to change the alicorns and make them useful, so how could Rena have done what they could not?
Then again, they didn't ask a female to help, did they? Of course not. Their magics are all weak, useless. As useless as keeping me from dying of pneumonia. Rena was a fount and a wellspring of surprises today.
They were certainly acting tame enough at the moment. He'd petted and scratched them at Rena's direction, and they had actually behaved as nicely as any horse he'd ever owned. Their coats were extraordinary; softer and silkier than any horse. And for once in his life, he'd gotten the chance to touch a still-living horn; it had been warm beneath his tentative caress, very much a part of the creature.