Chapter One

The dryad paused, glancing over all she'd just written. "Quite a forceful start, don't you think, Jasper?"

Shaking his mane, the stallion replied simply, "I've had a lot of time to think about all this."

Silence fell between the two of them as the dryad accepted this without question. Jasper resumed his pacing, leaving the soft whisper of the wind uninterrupted as he collected his thoughts. Several moments passed before the dryad chose to interject. "It's a strong beginning. But a beginning is nothing if not followed up."

This was enough to halt Jasper's pacing. "Don't rush me."

"Think of it as firm encouragement. You know I would not rush you in such a matter."

"You would if I thought I had to rush."

The firm reply came swiftly. "You said yourself if you didn't do this now, you never would."

All the unicorn gave in answer was a reluctant snort. He allowed his rigid demeanor to melt a little, moving over to the dryad. "I just don't know where to start. There's so much going through my head."

The dryad didn't respond right away, instead studying the stallion's stance. His tail was flicking often, a sure sign, at least for Jasper, that he wasn't entirely comfortable. She reached up to rest a hand on his mane.

"Courage, my friend. You lived through it once. You relived it when you told me. And as you feel it is time to relive it again, you must find the strength to see it through to the end."

Looking him in the eye as best she could, she added firmly, "And I shall aid you how I can every step of the way."

A small smile cracked the surface of Jasper's face. "Thank you. Makes it a little easier."

Nodding, the dryad returned the smile. She glanced back to her stack of parchment briefly, silent but her intent clear.

It didn't take Jasper long to catch her meaning. He took a deep breath, set his expression again, and spoke, the dryad again setting his words to paper.

--

Any proper tale should start at the beginning. It is difficult to know precisely where that is in my case. With some stories it is clear where the proper beginning is. It is not hard to find a single point, one single decision, that acted as the catalyst to set off the chain of events. Other times, however, no such point exists. Instead, there is a chain of small, maybe even seemingly insignificant events that eventually build to a climax nobody could have foreseen. This is the kind of story that mine is.

It is, therefore, a slight bit difficult to know which bits of my story are important to the whole, and which I can gloss over. There is no reason to detail my entire life to this point, but it is hard to know what to leave out. I cannot even be certain as to how far back my story truly begins.

But I must start somewhere. An entire story of ramblings will accomplish nothing.

Perhaps the best way I can start my story is to start with myself. We are all unique individuals, none of us will act in quite the same way in any situation. In starting with myself, maybe I can provide a clearer picture of the "why" behind the things I have yet to say.

What, though, can I say about myself? I am not sure what it is that makes Jasper the Unicorn distinct from everyone else, for I am Jasper the Unicorn. My reactions come naturally to me, I hardly see anything "unusual" to mention, because being myself, it is all "usual" to me.

In that case, I suppose I will simply talk about my tendencies that might have bearing on my story later on.

First and foremost of these, at least to my mind, is my inability to be... inactive. Perhaps that is not the best phrasing for it, but I find it very difficult to simply be still. My friend penning these words for me can vouch for this – she is watching me pace even now as I speak. I get restless easy. It is difficult for me to settle. I suppose I am like a river that way. At times, a river can rush as quick as any tempest, swift enough to sweep away anything in its path. Other times, it drifts lazily by, barely able to be bothered to carry a leaf or two along with it. But whether it is quick or slow, it is always in motion. So too, I suppose, am I.

Such restlessness causes more than just idle twitchings in me, though. It also means I have difficulty standing by when action needs to be taken. I prefer to be on the front lines, rather than stay in the background and let things unfold around me. It can be both a blessing and a curse at times – if you are not sure of this yet, I am sure my story will reveal the truth of this.

This, then, explains part of what I think of myself. "Restless" is a word I've often used to describe myself. Others use different words in regard to my personality. One I often hear is the word "loyal." I am not sure how accurate this term is. Yet I do know that I hold those I love in very high regard. Sometimes this is what tempers my restlessness, other times it is what spurs it to action.

With these two aspects of my personality explained, I believe I can give a more accurate picture of events leading up to my story. I do not like winter – my restlessness prevents it. Spring is full of life, summer warm and inviting, full of things to do and people to see. Autumn even holds a certain flair of sorts – there is nothing so pleasant as a brisk run while the wind swirls the colors of the leaves all around you. Winter, however, brings nothing but stillness. The snow is stifling - it is hard to move in, much less fun. Ice stops the motion of the waters in its tracks. I have already compared myself to a river, and as the winter stops the river, so too do I find it stifling. The freeze extends to more than just water, it very nearly freezes movement entirely.

As a result, I tend to prefer to spend my winters away from the waste. The snow and ice does not hit other parts of Narnia quite as hard as it hits the waste. It is those parts that I prefer to stay during the winter months. My restlessness is not quite so frustrating that way.

I do not stay away as long as I might like, though. For I have difficulty imagining Christmas away from my family, they always like to have us all together then, and Christmas falls within the dreaded winter. This is where my apparent loyalty comes in. I endure a little time of winter in the waste for th sake of the holiday and my family. I remain in the woods until Father Christmas pays our family a visit, and then I move on not many days after. I keep out of the waste until at least the time of the thaw then. Sometimes my restless hooves keep me from returning even longer than that. Though I always do my best to keep in contact – I have known a lot of birds because of this, they usually make excellent messengers.

This is my general tradition, of sorts. For the sake of my family I remain nearby despite my abhorrence of winter. Then after Father Christmas' arrival, I head out to avoid further effects of the dreadful winter in the waste.

One winter, however, did not go that way.

And I suppose that it is there that I can properly begin my story.

--

Pausing to dip her quill again, the dryad said simply, "I was wondering where you were going with that."

A small snorty sound that could be construed as an equine chuckle came from the stallion's direction. "I guess it was a fair amount of rambling. But maybe the story will make more sense to those who know the storyteller."

"I concur. But I do believe it's time to step away from the background and tell the story properly."

Silence.

The Unicorn was a little hesitant before he spoke again. "You're right. Enough stalling... it's time to truly start this."

He closed his eyes, drew a slow breath, and hoped his scribe could keep up with his words.

There was much to be said, after all. And this was merely the start.