The unicorn is a solitary creature that lives in the wilderness and shuns human contact. But once in a great while, only when someone very pure of heart enters its domain, the unicorn will seek that person out. To show its trust, the unicorn will lie down and put its head in the lap of the chosen one.
Peter squinted across the room at the illuminated alarm clock on Mike's nightstand. He could just make out the time: 5:25 a.m. His usual peaceful sleep eluding him, he'd tossed and turned for hours. I'm sick of lying here, he thought. The faint beginning of dawn, barely visible under the window shade, caught his eye. I know, I'll go for a walk.
Peter silently pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, being careful not to wake Mike or the others. He picked up his shoes and crept down the stairs.
He followed the familiar pathway behind the house. The beach was deserted, except for someone walking a dog far off in the distance. The early-morning fog was just beginning to lift. Peter walked slowly through the thick sand, listening to the calls of seagulls and the rhythmic crashing of the waves.
He noticed a path that led up a hill to a low bluff covered with trees. Funny, I don't remember seeing this hill here before, Peter thought. Curious, he decided to climb up the hillside. At the top of the bluff, Peter found himself in the middle of a ring of pines growing close together.
Peter sat down in the sand under a pine tree and leaned back against its trunk. He was surrounded on all sides by trees. It's like having my own private forest, he said to himself. He closed his eyes; the sound of the distant waves was restful and soothing. He breathed in the fragrance of the pine needles. His lack of sleep finally catching up with him, Peter began to doze off.
He was abruptly awakened by a heavy pressure on his leg. Startled, Peter looked down. A very small gray horse, not much larger than a pony, was lying on the ground with its head in Peter's lap. But this horse had a pearly-white spiraling horn in the center of its forehead. "You can't be real...", he told the creature. "There's no such thing as a...unicorn..." Then Peter cautiously touched the horn: it felt solid and smooth.
The unicorn looked up at him with mild brown eyes and nickered softly. Peter gently stroked the silky gray mane, and the unicorn rested its head in his lap once more. "Wow, I wish Davy were here...I bet he's never seen a horse like you", he murmured. Peter continued to pet the unicorn: its coat was fuzzy and soft. His mind wandered, and he remembered riding a gray pony once at his cousin Andrew's birthday party, long ago. Meanwhile, the unicorn had closed its eyes and appeared to be sleeping.
It seemed to Peter that he and the little unicorn were the sole inhabitants of their own kingdom. He put his arm around the creature, and it nestled against him. Once more, the waves, the scent of pines, and now, the warmth of the unicorn snuggled by his side, lulled Peter to sleep.
Peter awoke again; this time he was alone. The sun had risen, and he could hear children's voices from the beach below. "I must have been dreaming", he said aloud, rubbing his eyes. "How long have I been here?...I guess I should start heading back." Just then, he noticed a dusting of short gray hairs on the leg of his jeans. And as Peter stood up, he saw an unmistakable trail of hoof prints in the sand by the pine trees.