9 days left

Some more from everyone's favorite unicorn, Frogfoot. (Have you ever met a unicorn with a goofier name?)


Frogfoot cantered out of the gate and across the field, his hooves hollow beats on the grass. He stretched out his white neck, shaking his main so it flew about like snow. Oh how wonderful it felt to run without knowing you were fenced in! Soon, the unicorn reached the woods. He ran into the trees, but soon had to stop running. The trees and underbrush and thorns and things made it hard too run. Frogfoot was shaded from the sun, and he was out, out and away. He sighed contentedly, and got down to roll about in the dust and moss. Ah, it felt good to scratch his back away from his old life. And the young unicorn got up and continued on his way.

For a time he was content to just explore the woods. And there was much too explore. There were quite a few plants that the unicorn was not too sure about. The mushrooms and bramble bushes did not look like the sort of thing that the king would approve of. At that thought, Frogfoot shock his head. Why should he care what the king thought? He was no longer under his care. Still, Frogfoot didn't eat the odd plants. The grass, however, tasted just the same as always. Perhaps not quite as delicouse as the sunlit grass had been, but a little shade never hurt your food.

After a few days, the unicorn remembered why he had come to the woods in the first place. Adventure! The opertunity to help his fellow creatures. The novelty of the trees and living without hostlers had taken center stage, but now he remembered and set out to meet someone in need.

After less then an hour, the unicorn stumbled into a village full of others. There were people, and horses, and sheep, and cows. Elves, gnomes, and faires. So many creatures that Frogfoot just stared for a minute. They were all different, but yet they all held something in common. Frogfoot was so overwhelmed by the number and variety of these villagers that it took him a moment to figure it out. They were all broken in some way. Legs were broken, eyes were missing. There were holes in chests where hearts should be. Frogfoot was used to seeing brokenness, but not in such abundance, such seriousness. The unicorn stepped delicately into the houses, full of busy creatures.

"Here," he said to a passing fairy with shredded wings. "Let me help you."
The fairy looked at him, and snorted rather rudely.
Oh well, thought the unicorn and continued on to a cat with a bald tail. Try as he might, and try as many creatures as he asked, none of them took him up on his offer to help.
I might as well stay with them, Frogfoot thought. Perhaps they will come around. So the unicorn stayed with the village of broken creatures, offering his help everyday.

This went on for days and days, weeks and weeks. Perhaps a month, perhaps two.
Slowly, without even realising it, Frogfoot began to act like the broken creatures. He ate the mushrooms and brambles. One day, Frogfoot's ear got so entagled in some thorns that it came off. It hurt terrribly, and bled all over his white fur. But afterwards, the unicorn thought Good. I'm like everyone else now.

To be continued.