It was twilight when the unicorn returned to her forest. The stars twinkled in the darkening night sky and the moon hung full and low in the horizon. She had been old when she had left on her journey to find her lost brothers and sisters, yet now she was not only old but weary and exhausted. Although she had been returned to her normal form, the unicorn still felt a sense of dying and the sharp pain of mortality. And with this lingering mortality was the sickening feeling of love and the sinking sensation of regret.

The animals in the forest had not forgotten the unicorn for upon her entrance, the deer bowed low, the wolves howled, and the owls hooted their welcomes. Although she could not yet see them, the unicorn knew that others of her kind had returned to the forest for it seemed alive with ethereal yet familiar magic.

Among the returned unicorns was a rebellious young female who called herself the Whistler. Her appearance was like any unicorn in the forest, milky white with a flowing mane and single horn protruding from her forehead yet, like the unicorn, something about Whistler was different from the others. She stood alone by the water, gazing at her reflection in its crystal-clear depths, when the unicorn entered the vicinity. Whistler did not recognize the unicorn's presence as one of her own kind but as that of a human.

The Whistler would not let her eyes deceive her, although it was plain to see that a unicorn like herself stood before her and not a human nor any mortal creature for that matter. Stepping with heavy cloven hooves, the Whistler approached the unicorn, violet eyes filled with curiosity and mild surprise.

The unicorn felt unnerved by the Whistler's presence. Something about how she carried herself, and the appearance of her horn, which glowed with the intensity of fire and ice, seemed strange.

"Who are you?" demanded the Whistler, glaring uneasily at the elderly unicorn, "Why have you entered my domain?"

The unicorn let out a lighthearted laugh upon hearing this, discovering that the Whistler was a mere child. "My dear, you cannot claim this forest as your own. I've lived here long before any of these trees were even saplings. Do you not even recognize she who destroyed the Red Bull?"

The Whistler snorted and pawed at the dirt, "Sure." she retorted, "and I'm a flying dragon!"

The unicorn visibly flinched at these words and took a few steps back, aghast. Such behavior amongst the unicorns was unheard of, even from a young one such as the Whistler. She seemed so strange to the unicorn, even more strange than the phenomenal adventure she had just completed. "Young friend," sighed the unicorn patiently, "this forest is my home and the animals within it my friends. Would you, a unicorn, deny her own kind?"

The Whistler's eyes wandered as she listened to the unicorn as if she had lost interest. "I suppose such an old unicorn would be no threat to me."

There was no humility in the Whistler's voice, no kindness or grace. The unicorn longed to leave her, to forget that a unicorn could portray such arrogance, and return to the lush green thickets and sparkling pools of her forest.

"What is your name, unicorn? I go by the name Whistler."

The unicorn could barely contain her outcry of surprise. A name? No unicorn had ever before carried the heavy burden of a name. Even knowing the name of a human was something strange and unnatural to a unicorn. "I have no name" replied the unicorn, her frail body shuddering in the darkness.

"Well then," said the Whistler with a slight jerk of her tail, "I'll call you 'Unicorn' for now. Since you're here, why don't we take a walk. I'll tell you of my adventures and you may tell me the story of the Red Bull if you like."

Hesitantly the unicorn agreed with the Whistler and the two unicorns began their walk down the deer-trod path that led to a large moonlit glade. Although the unicorn was still wary of the Whistler, she had begun to accept her differences...though little did she know that the Whistler would soon become her only friend and her only chance for survival.