You heard tell of the wild and mythical mare, with the spiraling opal horn and emerald eyes. The unicorn that no man could tame. The legend that every night she turned into a woman, with nacreous skin and gemstone irises. They thought to bring her to her knees and make her submit. They knew little of her strength, or her fierce magic, although they feared her horn, and the way it might split their chest open like rotted fruit. Because of this, many stayed away. But some… well, some just couldn’t resist the challenge.
They came with swords. They came with honeyed words. They came with jewels and gold. They came with their own hearts on a platter, but only with the purpose of having hers. They came with maidens, that she might bow her head onto the maiden’s innocent lap, and then be captured. Fools, all of them. As if she could be caught!
Some believed they had her, whether in chains or in collapsing citadels, but when the morning rays washed over the rumpled linens and rose petals, she was gone. She would always look for – and find – an escape. No man would conquer her.
Until… (stay tuned)
Elisabeth Writing 