//------------------------------//
// I ~ The Midnight Unicorn 
// Story: Izzy and the Moonlit Garden 
// by Sledge115 
//------------------------------//


I



The Midnight Unicorn





As far as she was concerned, Izzy Moonbow was certain she hadn’t seen the midnight-blue unicorn before.

She was sure of this, as sure a little filly could be, for very few of her fellow unicorns – children and grown-ups both – would stray far enough to come across her cottage. Her people hardly paid one another any more attention than they thought necessary – which was to say, none at all. What is a stranger, indeed, if not another face lost to memories?

But there Izzy saw her, as she looked out onto the world from her bedroom window. Tall, dark and blue, wrapped in a patchwork grey cloak, lurking amongst the treeline. Nothing, save for her height, made her stand out in particular, and for a fleeting moment Izzy wondered why she’d even bothered giving the mare any special attention.

That was, of course, until she saw dust fall from the mare’s cloak. Shimmering, glowing dust. How strange. Only her mother had such large amounts of glitter, and this mare certainly hadn’t been to their cottage. Or perhaps she had, Izzy realised with a gasp – like a thief in the night.

The thought faded when Izzy realised the mare’s blue-green eyes were staring right back at her, from within the gnarled oak roots and bushes. She held her breath, and perhaps so did the mare too, for they stared at one another for what must have been an eternity.

Then it passed, and the mare turned away, disappearing amidst the treeline with nary a sound. Only a trace of shimmering dust remained where’d she stood, glinting in the light.

Izzy furrowed her brow. The forest was no place for little fillies, her father had told her, once. After which her mother had chimed in, pointing out that they lived in a forest, and so Izzy forgot what they’d spoken about afterwards. Grown-ups were confusing.

But that didn’t matter now. All Izzy knew then was that she ought to ask the mare where she’d got so much glitter.

“Mom!” cried Izzy, hurrying downstairs with the pitter-patter of her tiny hooves. “I’m going to play outside!”

“Alright, dear,” her mother said, without raising her head from her latest painting – a rolling green field of grass upon a hillside. “Come home before dinner.”

“Okay!”

Izzy’s mother said nothing more, but that was okay. She was a busy mare, as busy as only artists could be. If the mare had taken her mother’s glitter, then all the better for her to save the day.

Without awaiting another reply, Izzy pushed the door open. Standing at the doorway, the little filly gazed upon the world outside her family’s cottage in full.

Izzy didn’t much like to play outside. It wasn’t that it was terrifying. As a matter of fact, Bridlewood looked quite lovely at this time of day, with the Sun at its highest, its lights reflected upon the many crystals that dotted the landscape. No, it was how quiet the other children were. She couldn’t understand why, not entirely, when there was so much to see out here, and Izzy found that she didn’t like the children’s silence.

Shaking her thoughts free of forlorn fillies and downtrodden colts, Izzy looked around. Her family’s cottage was one of those furthest from the Crystal Tea Room, tucked away at the very edge of the village. Surely, if the mare had shied away from a quick glimpse she’d given her, she wouldn’t head towards where others lived–

There, she saw it, shimmering upon the leaves. The glitter. And the mare, Izzy thought triumphantly, had left a trail.

So, on this sunny afternoon, off Izzy went into the deeper forest amidst glittering golden dust.


* * * * *


Bridlewood was a quiet forest. Large, and a little foreboding too, with its towering oak trees and thick undergrowth, but quiet. Small wonder that their foremothers had chosen to settle here. Izzy beamed, as she continued her trot down the gravel path. She knew that she remembered her mother’s lessons well. Stories of how the first unicorn settlers, on a pilgrimage for so long, had at last found home in the enchanting sanctuary they would later name Bridlewood.

Yet beneath the beauty of the forest she called home, Izzy felt alone. And never did she feel so keenly alone as now. Perhaps she had ventured too far, past winding creeks and moss-covered stones, the Sun’s rays disappearing one by one. The crystal that grew all around Bridlewood was nowhere to be seen. Here, even the sounds of chirping birds and the rustling leaves had faded into the afternoon air.

She must have walked for quite some time, indeed, feeling some wetness in her eyes, with branches all around her growing thicker and thicker still. Her mother would be worried sick. Her father – oh, she could just picture him – calling out to her. But Izzy knew that even if she could yell, he would never hear her, so far was he.

Just as she stopped and panted, eyes darting around the thick woods, she saw it. A small possum sitting upon a tiny stump. White and grey, like all possums were, it looked at her with curious little eyes.

Before she could say anything, it had hopped off and scurried off into the nearby bush. When Izzy went through, she saw the glowing golden trail yet again, the possum sniffing at it. Here, they stood in a tunnel of leaves and twisting branches, illuminated by the trail that lay ahead.

“Thank you!” Izzy exclaimed happily, to which the possum squeaked back. So on she went, further through the tunnel. 

Izzy knew not how long she’d walked, so certain was she that she was not alone, not with the possum accompanying her, until at last she came across a grove through a curtain of vines.

A garden was as best she could describe it. Izzy hadn’t seen a garden this well-kept. Flowers of many colours, not all of which she could name, lined its edges, with vines climbing up the trees. Above, the Sun’s rays still shone through, basking it in a warm light. A creek split the little garden, ending in a tiny spring.

How very odd. Izzy didn’t know of any pony who’d venture this far into Bridlewood’s deepest, darkest corners. Yet here she saw plainly a brass spyglass lying against a tree, rolled-up scrolls that looked yellowed with age, and three flat stones arranged like a small table for two.

“Do you live here?” Izzy asked the possum. The possum looked up to her, staring at her with those tiny eyes. Then it scurried off up the nearest tree, and into the hollow up above.

“Comfy,” Izzy mused. But she could not dwell long on how the little critter had built all of this, for her eyes were drawn towards the colour purple. A lot of it, in fact, tucked away beneath overhanging leaves. Only when she approached did she realise they were, in fact, more flowers. 

Purple flowers of many little buds, growing tall from their shrub-like foliage and pots. Izzy drew a whiff of its scent, feeling a sleepy calm wash over her.

It was when she reached over to touch it, that a reverberating voice sounded from around her.

“Halt,” it exclaimed. “That is not for thine hooves.”

Izzy pulled her hoof back just as the other pony in the little garden pushed leaves aside and emerged from the undergrowth.

The unicorn was indeed tall. Shrouded in the patchwork grey cloak, she stood taller still than Izzy had thought. Taller than any pony she’d ever seen. Even tall, mean Alphabittle wouldn’t reach the tip of her horn. Izzy’s eyes continued to pan up, until they met the unicorn’s own pair. These were blue-green, the colour of water in a forest pond.

She was pretty. Her coat reminded Izzy of cloudless skies when the stars shone the brightest, and Izzy could just see the faintest hint of a light azure mane from beneath her hood, a shade which reminded her of her mother’s paintings of lovely noontime gatherings. Her muzzle was dotted with youthful, dark freckles. She could not have been much older than her mother.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Izzy. “Your flowers are very pretty.”

The mare inclined her head, ever so slightly. But her gaze remained firm and narrowed.

“Leave us, child,” said the mare. “‘Tis no place for you, nor your ilk.”

Izzy blinked twice. The mare’s voice was unlike any she’d heard before. She sounded weary, yet where Izzy’s neighbours and fellow children sounded deadpan and withdrawn, there was also a mellifluous, silky tone to her voice.

Mellifluous. That was a nice word. Her mother liked to use fancy words. But that was another matter, for another time. The mare’s eyes were still narrowed, her brows furrowed.

“Did you not hear?” she said, her voice rising. “Leave us.”

The wind blew past, and from beneath the mare’s cloak, Izzy glimpsed what could only have been glitter. Sparkling, shimmering glitter.

“Where did you get those?”

The mare blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“The glitter!” Izzy exclaimed, pointing at her cloak. “Where did you get that? Did you take it from Mom? Did you ask her? She uses glitter a lot, so if she’s missing some she’ll be sadder than usual. Dad usually gets her some, but he’s, um… He doesn’t do it anymore.”

The mare blinked again once, then twice. Then, with flourish, she stretched a forehoof from beneath her patchwork cloak, scattering tiny, sparkling golden dust all around.

“This is not glitter, for goodness’ sake,” the mare answered with a huff. “Nay, this is stardust. I marvel that you could spot it at all.”

“Oh. I don’t know what that is.”

“Hrm. Then come back some time and perhaps I’ll tell you.”

“Can’t you tell me now?”

“Don’t you have family to return to?” the mare countered, before glancing up. “The night shall be falling soon, and these woods are hardly someplace a filly should be in by herself.”

She pointed towards the tunnel. “Follow the trail, and little Tiberius shall guide thee.”

“Well… um, okay,” Izzy said, looking down at her hooves. “Dad always said I shouldn’t be out in the forest all by myself. But, um, you shouldn’t either.”

The mare said nothing then. After a moment’s silence, she cleared her throat.

“I… see,” said the mare. “Then I shall attempt to… keep myself safe.”

Izzy looked up, beaming. “Okay!” she said, “Bye, miss tall unicorn! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She waved, and turned away without another hesitation, humming a jaunty tune to herself as she followed the possum. But as she was to leave through the hanging vines, she looked back at the mare.

The mystery mare stood there, motionless, her head tilted off to one side.


* * * * *


It hadn’t taken long for Izzy to reach home. It certainly didn’t feel that way. But by the time she waved goodbye in turn to little Tiberius, who’d guided her home, the Sun had begun to set and her mother stood at the door, pacing back and forth. And woe to anyone who’d gotten her eyes off her current painting before it was finished.

Yet as Izzy’s mother pulled her into the tightest of hugs, it was clear that she was only worried, from the way her blue mane and pink coat, identical to Izzy’s, had frazzled and glasses lay ajar.

She didn’t say anything at first, sitting Izzy down at the dining table. And for a while, Izzy was quiet, for she’d been served her favourite porridge and pine tea. But when the bowl and glass had been emptied and her belly filled, she looked up at her mother, and still saw worry etched across those often stoic features.

“Where have you been, Izzy?” asked her mother, her gentle voice turned frail.

Izzy glanced at her mother’s own bowl, and saw it was untouched. Her mother rarely left her food untouched, even when she scarcely spoke a word all day long.

“I’m okay. I saw a lady outside,” said Izzy. “She, um, had glitter, I think, so I thought she’d stolen from you. So I followed her, and there was a possum who took me to see her. It was nice. She lives in a pretty little place. Like in your paintings. There was a lot of flowers.”

Her mother said nothing, merely furrowing her brows. When at last she spoke, however, there was no sign of anger, only confusion and curiosity.

“And… this lady, what was she like?” asked her mother, eyes gleaming behind her glasses, sitting straighter on her seat. “Did she hurt you?”

“No, actually, she was nice. Well, not nice, just kind of there, but we talked,” Izzy answered. “She’s blue. Like, blue all over. And she has a possum friend. Oh, oh, I also asked her for the glitter back, but it wasn’t glitter actually. She called it stardust, or something. I think it was stardust.”

“Does she live here? Perhaps she’s from the other end of the village.”

“I dunno. Maybe. I walked pretty far,” Izzy paused, scrunching her nose in thought. “What’s stardust, Mom?”

“... I don’t know what that is.”

“That’s what I told her! Is it magic?”

Her mother tapped her chin, then shook her head. “We’ve talked about this,” she said, adopting a more even tone. “It went away one day, and no living unicorn knows of it.”

“But Dad said it might return,” Izzy persisted. “I mean, he said if it went away and no one knows how, maybe it’ll come back the same way!” 

Her mother let out a sad little chuckle.

“Your father was always the optimist,” she said, sighing. “Maybe it might, maybe it won’t. Who knows, maybe he’s right.”

Izzy giggled. “Yeah! I mean your paintings are pretty magical,” she said, gesturing towards the easel, where her mother’s latest was proudly displayed.

It was a simple one, the same painting she’d glimpsed earlier. A field of grass, swaying in the wind. The Sun shone brightly down upon it, the skies filled with fluffy white clouds. All drawn with her mother’s masterful strokes, gentle yet firm at the same time, the colours lush as they could ever be. 

Her mother glanced at it, and laughed softly.

“That one’s not finished yet,” she said. “I still think something’s missing…” She looked at Izzy, her smile fading a bit. “Izzy, dear,” said her mother. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been available. But if you need to talk, I’m here. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

Izzy thought of it for only a moment. “Okay!” she exclaimed. “I’ll go ask her too the next time we meet. Is that okay? Oh, I should ask her about the stardust. Maybe she’ll give me some.”

For a passing second or two, her mother looked wistful. But it went away, for she settled on ruffling Izzy’s mane.

“You could ask her, yes. These woods have their own stories, you know. Just don’t be late,” she said. “Come back home before dinner. Remember that, alright?”

“I will,” Izzy affirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “Maybe you can meet her too. She’s weird, I guess, but you’ll like her flowers.”

“Alright, if you say so,” said her mother, brushing away a few strands of mane off her eyes. “But don’t forget. Tomorrow’s a school day, and you’ve got arts and crafts.”

“I didn’t forget,” said Izzy. “It’s arts and crafts!” She hopped off her seat, and moved to hug her mother. “G’night Mom. Don’t sleep too late.” She hugged her a little tighter. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“It’s alright. I won’t sleep in late,” said her mother, patting her head. “Good night, Izzy.”

They parted with another hug and no further words spoken. But as Izzy walked up towards her room, she saw her mother still at the table, eyes fixed on the third, empty chair on the table.

Izzy didn’t like to think about it. Her mother had once been sunnier, and still made an effort to smile even now. Yet, in the year that had passed, there was always the sadness that fell upon her whenever Izzy looked away, just like all of their fellow unicorns.

Magic was long gone, she was told. Perhaps the lady in the garden knew something about it. Or perhaps she’d lied, and stardust was indeed just glitter.

All Izzy knew was that she ought to talk to her again, and maybe her mother would be happy.

‘Weird lady,’ Izzy concluded, as she closed her eyes, letting her mind wander off. ‘I like her.’


* * * * *


To Izzy’s great disappointment, arts and crafts were not particularly enjoyable the day after. It wasn’t so much that she hated school – as a matter of fact, she loved arts and crafts. But today was an outdoor class, and as far as outdoor classes went, it wasn’t very good. She did enjoy making her project, since golf and tennis balls were difficult to hold as they were.

Then she lost the class ribbon for the day, and that wasn’t very encouraging at all.

So disappointed was she that she’d bolted out as soon as class was finished, which was alright, as the teacher hardly noticed her anyway. This time around, she knew where to find the path into the forest, and happily she trotted in, accompanied by Tiberius.

When she arrived at the garden once more, as the Moon slowly showed itself in the fading afternoon skies, the mare was already there, kneeling beside her flowerbed.

“I see you’re earlier than expected, child,” said the mare, without glancing at her.

Izzy said nothing in response, looking down at her project, jutting out from her school satchel. She let out a sigh.

“I guess,” said Izzy. “I was busy making this. I don’t know, it’s not much, but…”

She looked up, in time to see the mare stand before her. 

“May we see it?” said the mare, offering a hoof. Izzy stared at it, then back at her project – a model of the world and the two celestial bodies that circled it.

“Okay,” said Izzy, taking out the model and presenting it to the mare, whose eyes fixed upon it, looking deep in thought. “It’s not much. Just my project.”

“An orrery… Impressive work,” the mare murmured, and if Izzy’s ears didn’t fool her, she sounded full of awe. She looked back at Izzy with a shimmer of fondness in her eyes. “Fine detail, you got the craters right, on such a tiny object as well. Yet you seem unhappy.”

“I guess,” said Izzy, her shoulders sunken. “Someone put a stick in the mud puddle outside and the teacher said it was art, so it got the ribbon instead.”

The mare, to Izzy’s surprise, let out a groan and a shake of her head. “Why does that not surprise me…” She paused. “Why have you come here, child?”

Izzy didn’t answer then, yet her eyes were drawn yet again towards the folds of the mare’s cloak, something that did not escape her eyes.

“Stardust,” said the mare. “You’re here for the stardust, are you not?”

“Mhm,” said Izzy, shrugging. “I was wondering if I could borrow some, um. Maybe it’ll make it shine more.”

The mare shook her head, gently setting the orrery down by the flowerbed. “I am sorry, but precious little remains in this world. It is hardly a tool for petty crafts. Nay, only in conjunction with the finest magicks of the land shall it manifest…”

Izzy’s ears flicked. She couldn’t have heard right.

“It’s… magic?” Izzy asked, breathless. 

The mare nodded solemnly. “Yes. The wisps of dust you see are tiny particles of the ethereal plane, powerful forces of creation and memories. Once these lands were saturated in them, and now, that is no longer the case.”

“But I thought magic was gone,” Izzy said. That’s what Mom and Dad told me.”

“Not all of it,” the mare replied, her tone a touch lighter. “There is some hidden away still in the furthest reaches.”

“I don’t know if I can help find more,” said Izzy, downcast. “I don’t know much outside of Bridlewood.”

The mare regarded her for a moment. She walked past her, towards the nearby flowerbed. Izzy’s eyes followed her as she brushed a forehoof against dried leaves and petals.

“This garden is withering,” the mare murmured. “Yet with the company of others, perhaps I can make it thrive. I need only your presence and advice.”

“But I’m not a gardener,” Izzy protested. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can help you.”

The mare frowned. “And yet I see you have your mark already.”

Izzy followed her gaze, and realised the mare was staring at her flank. A blue-buttoned heart lay there, as it did the first time it appeared. “Oh, it’s um, it’s just my mark.”

“Hm, but you do not seem proud of it.”

“Why would I?” Izzy retorted. “I think all the other kids got real superstitious about it ’cause I got it early. But it’s okay, they moved on eventually.”

“Bah, children,” the mare scoffed. “How did it come to be, then?”

“Mmm, I don’t know, I was asleep I think and then… poof. I walked down the stairs one morning and Mom and Dad looked really surprised. Mom said it’s the mark of an artist, and I did make this really nice paper bird the day before.”

“Then perhaps you can offer me your creations,” said the mare. “One artist to another. And in return, I shall impart my wisdom for you and your people on… shall we say, ‘having fun’. Sticks in the mud simply won’t do.”

She moved to the stone table, nudging the orrery. “As I have said, impressive work you have here. It would be a shame if others could not appreciate it, Miss?”

So flustered was Izzy that she hadn’t realised the mare had asked for her name. “Oh, my name’s Izzy,” she said, smiling. “Izzy Moonbow.”

“Moonbow,” the mare repeated. Her expression softened. “A fine name. Your parents have excellent taste.”

“Thank you, I’m sure they worked really hard on it,” replied Izzy. “Dad called me Izzy and Mom added Moonbow. She really liked the sound of it. What’s your name?”

The mare looked at her, tilting her head. “No one has asked me that, not for a very long time.”

“Did you forget it?” Izzy asked.

“No, silly girl. I have not.”

Chewing on her lips, the mare seemed deep in thought, her brows furrowed. Then she looked away from Izzy, towards the looming Moon above.

“My name is Luna.”