Huunang walked on, his hooves heavy against the dirt path. Nessalir sat atop the horse, her eyes growing tired. The cold was beginning to creep its way through her flesh and bite deep into her bones, and this made her shiver. All around her were trees and bushes, and what sunlight remained in the sky was blocked out by the canopy above.

  Darkness was falling. It was falling fast and it was falling deep, and Nessalir was still hours away from Paeliig by her estimation. She would have to stop for the night and make camp in this wilderness.

  It had been but two days since she'd left Redair and its royal family, and already did the drakkowar grow weary of travel. The prince Balof had asked her to remain, and the seneschal Duun had indicated that he would not be adverse to her staying a few more nights, but Nessalir could sense the power struggle looming between Balof and his stepmother, and she had no desire to remain in the center of it. From Duun she had learned that the Remuran garrison in Paeliig were seeking mercenaries, and so she had set off for new work.

  Perhaps she could have spared a night or two more, long enough to seek out a caravan or merchant headed in this direction. But solitude had long been the way of Nessalir, and it was not a habit she could break lightly.

  Her horse snorted as she bade him stop, and Nessalir dismounted to examine her surroundings in this dying light. The forest was not so thick here; it would be simple to make a camp just off the path. Nessalir tied Huunang to a tree and set for him a bag of oats, which he ate greedily.

  She took from her pack two torches, and set one standing in the earth, careful to keep it far from anything that may serve as unintended tinder. She lit the torch to mark her pce, then withdrew from the saddlebags her bow and a quiver of arrows, before creeping into the dark and silent woodnd beyond.

  It was a calm night. Not even a light breeze traveled through those trees as Nessalir made her way through the forest. Her steps were careful and sure, light enough that nothing snapped or crunched beneath her boots. The half-dragon woman paused when she had walked about a dozen paces from her camp, and she sniffed the air and listened, seeking any sign of game out in the woods tonight. Her ears and her nose, both enhanced by her arcane blood, could detect sounds and smells that those of an ordinary human could not.

  She had dried meats and other provisions in her saddlebags, but Nessalir would always choose fresh food over stored. Somewhere off in the quiet, Nessalir heard the sounds of footsteps—something heavy against the forest floor.

  What creature made those sounds, she could not determine. Nessalir wove a silent path through the trees, following the distant animal. Scents began wafting into her nostrils; fur and musk. The creature's smell reminded her of Huunang and other horses. Perhaps it was a deer or an elk, a beast who would surely yield much meat once felled.

  The smell of water reached her, along with the sound of lips and a tongue upon a spring surface. Her quarry was drinking, and her quarry was close. Nessalir nocked an arrow, and she prepared to let it fly once the animal was in sight. Just a few more steps…

  Beyond the trees she found a pond. The red and orange glow of the setting sun sparkled upon the pcid waters. Near the center of the pond, a silver fish broke the surface of the water, leapt into the air and spshed back down. Nessalir's eyes flew across the pond, to the water's edge, and she found the beast she'd sought.

  A horse, white as freshly fallen snow, drank deep of the water. From the center of its forehead, extending outward over a foot in length, glowed a golden, spiraling horn.

  Nessalir froze. Her hands remained on her bow, the string drawn, the arrow trained upon the unicorn. She held her breath and watched, scarcely believing what she was seeing. Such a rare beast was near-myth, and here one was, alive and solid before her eyes.

  The mythical creature finished its drink. It lifted its head and shook its mane, and its pure bck eyes settled on Nessalir.

  The drakkowar did not move. She dared not. The unicorn met her gaze; something within her recognized a deep intellect in the way it watched her. Seconds passed, and they stretched out into minutes, and finally the unicorn turned away.

  It walked unhurriedly into the forest, and vanished amongst the trees. Nessalir watched it go, not moving so much as a single muscle. When the unicorn was gone, she rexed herself, pulled the arrow from her bow, and stood straight.

  Nessalir approached the pond. The waters, she could see now, were clear as gss. Fish swam just below the surface, without any apparent fear of predation. They were rge, with scales that shone in the evening light. Nessalir raised her left hand, covered in red scales and ending in bck cws, and she flexed its reptilian fingers.

  Her arm shot out in a blur. The peace of the water's surface was shattered in an instant, and in that instant her cws curled around one of the unsuspecting fish. Before it knew what was happening, it was out of the pond, held tight in the grip of a dragon blooded hunter.

  Leaving the pond behind, she took the trout back to her camp, eager to cook and eat. Her nerves were still frayed by the sight of the unicorn, but she did her best to put it from her mind. Such creatures were so rare that she doubted she would ever see another for as long as she lived, and she would cherish the memory of its sight. And yet she could not help but feel that she had done something wrong, committed some sort of viotion by daring to set her eyes upon so secretive a beast.

  As Nessalir stepped once more into the treeline, a shiver ran down her spine. She stopped, and turned around, casting her golden eyes about for any sign of another presence. There were eyes upon her, she was certain, but she heard nothing, and when she breathed deep, all she could smell was the forest, the trees, and the fresh and sweet scent of berries.

  Nerves, she thought. She was shaken by the sight of the unicorn; nothing more. Nessalir returned to her camp, but the feeling of being watched did not dissipate.