Spring flowered brightly in every direction. The scent of rain accompanied the morning’s sunlight, but with the storm past overnight, I only experienced its aftereffects: soggy earth, flowers pearled with water droplets. My every step squished somewhat unpleasantly, but ignoring that, I found reason enough to be cheerful. Morning’s fog disintegrated into the bright air as I moved. My course took me beyond the forest, through the meadows beyond, mane flapping sadly away from my neck. I suppose I made at least a more impressive silhouette than I had on the day of my arrival; days of care had filled most of the hollows in my flanks, and warmer weather had at last convinced my winter coat to let go its hold. Still, I felt somewhat uneasy on the open ground. Perhaps it may be explained by a long swath of my history spent under the darkness of trees; I was not meant for open air. Or for the sea.

     Yet it was the sea I sought, and with careful steps I found at last the edge of the World’s Edge. The crumbling rock beneath my hooves shone white, like bone – like the skeleton of the earth itself. I blinked at it for a time before allowing my eyes to follow the writhing course of the sea far below. Light glinted on the waves, too, where they crashed and broke against the wall of the cliffs. The roar of it all funneled up to me in a strange, muffled fashion. I wondered briefly if anyone had ever fallen to their death from such a cliff – one misstep and gone over the edge. It struck me suddenly that for all the kindness of those living within this place, the land itself held only a wild disregard for any who required its protection in order to live. But perhaps that was the nature of the world.

     “Impressive, at least,” I muttered, as the ocean thrashed and rattled carelessly below. Not to my taste, exactly, but… impressive, nonetheless.

     I stood alone for some time, kept company only by the restless wind. It teased long, tattered strings of dark hair over my eyes, until with an irritated snort I tossed my head, eager to be rid of the nuisance. Other unicorns appeared to relish the seaside, but it called ineffectively to me. I far preferred the woods.

     Small flecks of rock and loose soil scattered under my hooves, bouncing along the bone-white rock below as they fell to the sea. I cast a last, wary glance at their descent and turned – and immediately paused. I had drawn company unbeknownst to myself: silent and glimmering in the low light, a creature moving like fog over the grass. My heart leapt, unaccustomed to the shock of surprise, as my eyes traced her frame – like glass, like a piece of the great wall come to life. She approached without speaking, and I stood at the precipice dumbstruck, wondering – not for the first time – if I dreamed, transported by a weathered mind beyond the confines of reality.

     Unable to find an appropriate greeting, I stared far too long, confused by the chiming delicacy of the glass form. She shed light as a proper being sheds water – yet a great heart beat in her hollow chest, pulsing, brilliant. A keen tremor of something – hunger – rattled in the marrow of my bones. She was unlike myself – so unlike anything…. My ears came forward as the gentle fluttering of near-silent wings descended from above, a sooty barn owl lighting delicately upon the curve of her back. And still neither of us spoke.

     “Good morning.” I found the words as last, but they brushed softly from my lips, suppressed by the sensation of wonder yet lingering in my brain. Perhaps she could not speak? But when she looked at me, her eyes peered into something far away. An expression of fear clouded her features as she stepped away. “What witch craft is this?!” Her voice would match in loveliness her exterior, if only it were not raised in terror… The thought occurred to me as, dumbstruck, I watched her fall, trembling. For a long moment I expected her to disappear, too fragile a thing to belong in this world, crushed by some force beyond myself.

     But by degrees the spell of wonder fell off me, and the crystalline mare seemed to regain her senses. The bird had left by the time she spoke again; I watched her, curious, rooted to the spot by a whirlwind of thoughts all clattering like hail against the inside of my skull. “I am sorry.” I blinked in answer, head slowly tilting. “No harm done.” I told her softly, my gaze resting upon her strange face. “But I’m glad to see you’ve recovered from… whatever that was.” I spared another glance for the restless ocean beyond, my hooves crawling backward yet again as she rose. I meant only to give her ample room; after a few paces I paused again, my attention returning to her. Where could I start? She gave a name, at least. Past her fit of terror, she conversed much like any other horse. I supposed I should treat her as I would any other, then. Age had worn patience in me at last, it seemed.

     “Ruske,” I told her, bending my long neck. “The pleasure is mine, I think… Do you live here? Are you in pain? I am a nurse, though you might be better served in seeing Resplendence, if you feel any lingering discomfort…?”