But at last she woke up in the middle of one warm night and said, “Yes, but now.” She hurried through her forest, trying to look at nothing and smell nothing, trying not to feel her earth under her cloven hoofs. The animals who move in the dark, the owls and the foxes and the deer, raised their heads as she passed by, but she would not look at them. I must go quickly, she thought, and come back as soon as I can. Maybe I won’t have to go very far. But whether I find the others or not, I will come back very soon, as soon as I can.
peter s. beagle.
What’s awful is this is the reality of her naive regards, she’s stuck between a rock and a hard spot and all of the creatures she has loved and cared for, taught to remain unseen and away from hunters will be in ruin the moment she leaves the forst. Human’s had just entered and warned her, the world is no place for a unicorn anymore, stay iyour forest, stay with your creatures, guardian. But she can’t. She must go and find the unicorns, even though it is a fact that they all remain aloneand away from one another stuck in their own bliss and curisosities. She isn’t regarded as a hero to anyone but herself and these creatures, and in a sense, both of them: she and the creatures, die. All to save the unicorns, all to ensure that she isn’t truly alone, that she isn’t truly the last.