Posted: March 04, 2010
*Original Fiction By *
TAVA WOLF
I met Tava on-line while trying to rekindle interest in the HeatherAlexander Yahoo group.
She had originally posted this story to the group in July of 2004 and I asked her if I could post it here
as it was inspired by Heather's Black Unicorn.
She agreed and now Shana's Den is proud to present:
DARK AS DAY, BRIGHT AS NIGHT

By TavaWolf
Copyright (c) 2004-2013 All Rights Reserved


For Dena, who dual interests sparked the tale
For Heather Alexander whose song “The Black Unicorn” helped shape the vision
And
For Jeremy, who is still a wolf and a warrior.
Semper Fi, Little Brother.  Semper Fi.



The unicorn was distressed and confused by her distress.  Nothing seemed right anymore, the way it had just a few short days ago.  
Only this morning when she had gone to the pool to drink and dip her horn, she noticed that her usual sparkling silver-white coat seemed
to have darkened a few shades and was now more of a cream color and her crystal etched horn that was spun of starfire and
moonbeams didn’t glint the way it once had.  Indeed for the first time in her whole existence she was afraid to touch it to the pool’s
rippling surface.

Cantering away from the glade, she moved deeper into the trees.  The sunlight hurt her eyes these days, as well and she feared
something was wrong.  She needed to talk to someone and the only one she could think of that would listen was her wolf friend.

She found her comfortably curled near the entrance to her den, dozing while the rabbit she had caught earlier digested.  Blinking and
yawning, she lifted her head as the unicorn came into view.

“What is it, my friend,” the wolf asked as she sat up and curled her tail around her.

“Do I look different to you?” the unicorn asked.

The wolf gave her a look.  “No.  Should you?”

The unicorn huffed in impatience, knowing wolves don’t see in color.  “Does anything about me look different to you?”

The wolf, who had been about to return to her nap, gave the wolf equivalent of a sigh and moved closer.  “Well,” she said as she circled
her friend’s body, “You do look less…sparkly then usual.”  She moved to the front.  “Lower your head.  Hmmm.  Your teeth look
sharper and pointer now.  More like mine, see?”  And she yawned again, exposing a fine set of teeth.  Then she sniffed her way along,
stopping when she came to the set of puncture marks that marred the satiny surface of the unicorn’s coat.  “And it looks like these haven’
t healed yet.  That’s odd.  And your scent’s changed.  Not a lot, but you smell less like a flower-filled meadow.  You have a touch of;
well…” she trailed off, not wanting to insult her friend.

“What?” the unicorn finally asked, stamping her right forefoot a little angrily.  “I smell like what?”

The wolf looked away.  “Carrion,” she mumbled.

“What did you say?”

“Carrion, all right.  You smell like a rabbit that’s been in the sun too long.  Not a lot, but it’s there.”  The wolf was clearly embarrassed
having to tell the unicorn this.

The unicorn stood for a few seconds, considering.  “The puncture marks…I got those not too long ago when the nasty thing came here
and acted like a spider that thought I was a big juicy fly.  You remember.”

The wolf bent and licked her toes.    “Of course I remember.  It was on your neck sucking at your blood and you couldn’t get it off.  
Then I came and managed to dislodge him.  I’m not likely to ever forget that.  I’ve never seen you that mad.  Actually, I’d never seen
you mad at all before.”

The unicorn shivered.  She knew what the wolf meant and the memory was not a pleasant one.

It had been only a few hours after sunset when a dark, skeletal, leathery looking thing had come into their forest and for whatever reason
had actually bitten her on the neck and begun drinking her blood.  The sensation had been beyond nauseating, but much as she spun and
bucked she hadn’t been able to shake it loose.  It had been fastened at just the right spot on her neck where she couldn’t reach it with
her teeth and when she had tried to scrape it off against a tree it had simply swung up onto her back and kept sucking.

Eventually her terrified neighs had brought the wolf who had leapt onto the thing and torn it free.  The unicorn, maddened by pain and
the horrible feel of its unclean touch had grabbed the thing up in her teeth, shaking it like a rag doll while the wolf frantically rubbed her
muzzle in the grass, trying to rid her mouth of the taste of long-spoiled meat.  The unicorn had finally flung the thing to the ground,
trampling it with her bright silver hooves; finally finishing it off with a horn thrust right through its chest.

The unicorn had felt weak for a few days, but then seemed to be improving, so she thought no more about it.  But now…

“It did something to me.  That foul little thing actually did something to me!  That’s not supposed to happen!”

The wolf had backed away a few paces and was now sitting regarding her with great interest.  “Your eyes are glowing,” she said finally.

“What?”  Distracted from her growing anger, the unicorn looked at her.

“Now it’s fading, but just a few minutes ago your eyes were glowing.”  The wolf shook her head.  “You need to talk to the others, I
think.”

The unicorn tossed her head in agreement and they started off, running through the trees to the grassy meadow where the serenity
usually gathered.  But when the wolf ran out into the meadow, the unicorn stayed in the trees.  For some reason she felt uneasy about
approaching her kin.

The wolf, seeing that she hadn’t followed, ran back to her.  “What’s wrong?”

The unicorn wrinkled her forehead, which was her way of frowning.  “I don’t know.  I just don’t want to approach them.”

The wolf sat down, then twisted her head as she nibbled at her back, which she often did when thinking.  After a few minutes she looked
up.  “I’ll go talk to the herd stallion for you then.  Wait here.”  And she was off, bounding over the grass towards the serenity.

The unicorn waited, occasionally stamping her hoof impatiently, much as a human might drum their fingers.  Finally the wolf came back,
bearing something in her mouth.

“What did he say?” the unicorn asked anxiously.

“Hef saif thaf…sorry,” the wolf said, spitting the things out of her mouth.  “He said…he said you’re tainted.”

“What?”  The unicorn reared in alarm and her eyes rolled wildly.

“He said some of that nasty thing’s blood got into you and now you’re tainted and have to leave the forest.”  The wolf’s lambent grey
eyes were soft with sympathy.

“Leave the forest?  But I can’t!  I don’t know anything about the outside!”

“I know.  That’s why I said I’d go with you.”

The unicorn stopped in mid-bolt to look at her.  “You will?”

“Of course.  I’d never let you go out there alone.  It’s like all the two-legs are running mad or something.  You wouldn’t last long alone.  
Oh, and your mother gave me these.  She said the faerie queen gave them to her years ago.”  The wolf nosed at what she had dropped.

Lying on the grass were two bands, about the size of bracelets, with the pure liquid gleam of faerie silver.  “She said they’ll let us
become two-legs.”

“Permanently?”  The unicorn hoped not.  It sounded dreadful.

“No, just when we want to.  Four-legs make two-legs nervous.  Or at least I did.”

“How do we...Oh.”  The unicorn watched as the wolf laid her paw inside one of the circles where it immediately slid up and fasted
around her foreleg.  The unicorn did the same with the other, then they started off.

As they cantered through the forest the wolf told the unicorn about some of the things she’d seen during her brief foray into the two-legs
domain.

“They do really strange things there.”

“Like what?”  The unicorn was hungry but the grass she nibbled at didn’t taste right and finally she spit it out.

“Well, they don’t have any fur of their own, so they take the fur from other animals.”

“No fur?  How horrible.”

“Well, they do have some on their heads, but that’s all.  But this is really horrible; they don’t always eat what they kill.”

The unicorn stopped and stared at the wolf.  “You’re making that up.”

“I’m not, I swear,” the wolf insisted.  “They kill things and use the outside but let all the good parts go to waste.  It’s awful.”

The unicorn began moving again.  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she muttered.  “That is the most obscene thing I’ve ever heard.”

The wolf was glad she hadn’t told her about how the two-legs killed trees and made things out of them.  She was pretty sure her friend
really couldn’t have handled that.
This is a fan site page. Neither it nor Shanawolf are affiliated with any of the above mentioned persons
or businesses in any way save friendship and love for what they do.
This story is reproduced as given to me by Tava Wolf without edit for content.
All events, persons, and situations are of her creation.
CHAPTER ONE