Unicorns of the Woodland - Chapter ONE
When The Dark and Light Unicorns Used To Be One
The wind blew my mane and forelock in my face, making me look more Fabio than I really was. I snorted and tossed my head, sending
my mane back in its place. I overlooked the valley from the top, where our lovely palace sat. We were the unicorns of the Woodland Area,
and we lived in a silver-golden-bronze-copper- every rich metal you could imagine.
Of course, there were other areas. There was the
forest, the Foal Area, where young unicorn foals were born and raised, the Dark Palace, our enemies, and the Sacred Temple, where every destined Unicorn would finally found out their
beautiful destiny. I wanted to be one of them. But I was not but a mere mortal 4 year old colt.
Our whole palace was held together by a 20-hand Unicorn stallion who went by the name Arim. And there was Mother Mare, a Unicorn mare that was
even older than Arim. She was a mare that would seem witchy, because she did live in a small hut, had a big pot full of green potions, and spoke like one, but she was actually a good reinforcement. Her potions could do many things in battles.
And that reminded me, the Dark Unicorns wanted a battle over who would lead the Palace now. Arim was quite a peacemaker, though, and didn't like wars and fights between countries. He had rejected, but I knew the Dark Leader, Arod,
would keep pushing him on till he accepted for a fight. That was really all he liked to do. It would make Arim angry, most of the time. I snapped from my thoughts, suddenly, to hear
a soothing voice of the lead mare, Sahrah. It wasn't pronounced Sarah, but Sigh-ra.
"Oh, my word, Dimitri, please come IN! It is
tooo cold out here for you to be piddling. Get in, Dimi." Ah, Sahrah, such a control freak. On windy days such as this, she wanted every
unicorn inside the palace at that minute, doing their daily duties.
She treated the foals like a protective grandmother, and she treated the younger unicorns, about my age, about the same, only there was more teasing and wicked jokes rather than playing and tickling. I followed after her as she went inside. Picky, picky, picky.