The Shoreward Rider

The unicorn had carried kings, fugitives, and one very apologetic poet, but never anyone toward the sea. It stopped at the cliff’s edge, hooves braced against the black rock, and turned its silver head to her. “I know,” she said. “You were promised a road.” Below, the tide folded and unfolded the evening like a letter. At last, the unicorn stepped forward. Somewhere beyond the horizon, an old kingdom was waiting to be forgotten.