She shook her head, to clear the dream: she’d slipped, momentarily, into the person of a raven soaring over a line of knights on horseback. Clearly not her real self.
The unicorn foal not twenty paces away shook its head in imitation and stared at her with its wide golden eyes. She would have frozen… but she didn’t. Somewhere, some horse-borne ancestor woke and smiled, smiled with her whole body, and extended a hand for the foal to sniff. It came forward, on its young white legs, and nuzzled her gently, just as the library lions had done, only here it was feathery-soft lips rather than sun-warmed stone.