Magical Creatures of Clovenglade: A Journal

Greetings, to whomever deems to read this journal of mine. I have spent many days in the forests outside my home, watching the strange creatures. My father tells me that the creatures in Clovenglade are very different from other places, and dangerous too, and I could not find any books in the royal library about all of them. So, like anyone with my sense of duty would do, I began writing my own little book. I do hope you enjoy learning about all my little friends!

Unicorns

The guardians of the forests, horses with lion-tails, wispy beards, cloven hooves and one gleaming horn. There is a unicorn for every forest, with some exceptions, and they have long been hunted as fearsome beasts. However... I have met one. It was peaceful, beautiful, with a silvery mane. They are perhaps the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen.

Pegasi

An otherworldly beautiful winged horse. They are rare, and sometimes regarded as local deities, but not as rare and elusive as the unicorn. They have huge, gorgeous wings and tend to have gentle, laid-back personalities, as if they have been blessed with knowledge of what is to come. My own steed is a pegasus, whom I love very dearly.

Sea-Horses

Fish-tailed horses that live beneath the sea in their own submarine kingdom. Particularly playful sea-horses come up to the shore to watch the land-creatures. They seem to be able to breathe above water just fine, but given the lack of back legs, they cannot live on land like ordinary horses. They are often confused with the freshwater kelpie, which do have back legs but have much different behavior and habitat.

Kelpies

These dangerous tricksters will invite you to ride on their back, then drag you down to the deep. They have fins and fish tails similarly to Sea-Horses, but also have back legs and can live comfortably above the water. They prefer freshwater lakes and marshes, and are carnivorous. It is best to avoid any horse that looks like it might be a Kelpie.

Dandelion Rabbits

They appear to be small rabbits made of dandelion-fluff, and they appear in the springtime. It is not known where they go when the springtime concludes, but since befriending them, I’ve noticed lots of sprouting dandelions outside my window... Father hates them, because they’re weeds. I’m only thankful the rabbits are so hard to find! I imagine he would not be very welcoming of them... I have observed that the rabbits’ fur can blow off, but it regrows in about a day or so. They’re shy little things, but they like to come up close and smell me, and are especially numerous in places with lots of wildflowers, like in the heart of the woods.

Pyre-Mice

These poor creatures have a reputation as evil, destructive pests because they like to collect little abandoned beads and bits of metal and glass to melt down. I have watched them in a little cave deep in the woods; they take the melted materials from inside their tail and shape the red-hot liquid into a fortified nest. My parents gift me a lot of jewelry I do not need, so I began leaving such frivolous things near their cave and observing the Pyre-Mouse young. The babies don’t have the impressive fiery tails, so they look quite strange, almost like ordinary mice. Their eyes are usually a bright sky blue, and since I began watching them, I’ve noticed little gifts outside my window... Shiny pebbles and seashells and the like.

Canyon Hawks

These birds hail from Bridlespur, but they are such strong fliers that they can cross the sea of Clovenglade without tiring. So occasionally, you can see them migrate here when Bridlespur becomes too warm, as my books tell me they are more accustomed to the chilly, windy environments of the canyons they live in. I beg of thee not to try to capture or corner them, as they always keep their talons sharpened, and it could be quite dangerous. I have been told that their nests are large and multi-tiered, often built into the cracks and cave systems of the canyons of Bridlespur. When I see them in Clovenglade, it’s usually around the Great Mountain.

Blackwolves

In forests without unicorns to protect them, dangerous and frightening Blackwolves are said to appear, casting the woods in shadow. Of course, I have heard that they are not so terrifying, from the horses that have visited the Southern Woods. That is, they are simply another guardian. I have never seen them myself, as I live in the northeast, but they are apparently populous in Vintertrot, too. I have been hoping for a visit there for some time. I hope to meet them myself, and provide a more informative entry.

Spicebears

These small, bearlike creatures have some magical abilities, and soft coats that smell of ginger, nutmeg and cinnamon. Unfortunately, this makes them a popular candidate for the hunting-parties, which I find truly disgusting. Many ladies at court bring in shawls made of their ginger fur and I’ve been seeing their numbers dwindle since I was a young girl. I must put an end to this... Thankfully, their main territory in the Bluemoon Woods hasn’t been found yet. I have observed them speaking with other animals as if they are one of their own. They seem to have some empathic abilities, and are highly intelligent. It only makes the hunting all the more troubling...

Celestial Fish

A common sight at the Sea of Clovenglade, these shimmering, glowing fish fly above the sea when they are awake, at night, and roost in drifting seaweed in the water at day, when they are asleep. They are playful creatures, recognizable from their pale blue bodies and rainbow fins. Old myths called them falling stars who decided to stay on earth... They seem to get on well with pegasi... When I travel down to the shore, my winged steed seems to love to fly with them at sunset. They make me very happy.

Selkie Seals

Another creature from the shores of Clovenglade, these large seals seem to like rocky coasts, and they always wear a shawl of sorts, fashioned of seagrass. The old legend is that they can turn into human women, but there is no veracity to this, as far as I have observed. Perhaps it is the imaginings of some silly sailors. However, I have seen them imitating human speech... Mayhaps that is the source of the myth.

Twirlycats

These creatures take on the appearance of a colourpoint cat, but can be distinguished with their large, bright eyes and split tail. They have some limited psychic ability, similar to Spicebears, and I often see them hanging around the stables. They can spin their tails around to lull their prey to sleep, and can be somewhat capricious.

Garden-Drakes

I see these tiny green dragons in the royal gardens often. They eat fruits and leaves off of our carefully cultivated plants, so father is determined to get rid of them. But I noticed that since they appeared, the plants have been growing so much more healthily! I think they might feed on weaker or diseased parts of the plants... Their flight is somewhat weak, and they can only glide short distances. Their bite, too, is not very dangerous. I believe the Garden-Drake is misunderstood, and overall a boon to those with green thumbs.

Pumpkin Bats

An orange-colored bat that appears in the autumn, seemingly growing pumpkin-vines. I’ve seen it said that they scatter pumpkin-seeds to ensure the harvest next year will be bountiful, and they’re seen as a sign of good fortune if they appear during All Hallow’s Eve festivities. They appear to be attracted to the smell of cinnamon.

Gargoyles

A stone statue that has come to life, brought to life by great magical intent. It is rare to encounter one that is living, but the horse Omen is said to have a Gargoyle companion, who she consults with on matters of fate, though it acts like a statue when human eyes are looking. They like to live in graveyards and old churches.

Churchgrim

Another resident of old graveyards, these eerie black dogs appear beside the Barghest and aid her in carrying her lanterns, and collecting lost souls. I, thankfully, have not yet met one of these heralds of death. I have heard they are gentle guides, but the thought still terrifies me...

Fairy Cats

Deep in the woods, you can see glowing fairy-like creatures gathering. They glow in the night and partake in wonderful enchanted feasts. They are playful tricksters and will try to steal your jewelry and trinkets! I really do not mind, of course... Apparently, they are numerous in Vintertrot.

~

Thank you for reading my small index of beasts. I only hope that this will create more love and empathy for their ways, as I prepare to become the queen of this land.

- Rhoan

Locales of the Magical Countries
By Arthur Wildbrook

Greetings! My name is Arthur, and as a once-great horseback racer and star of the Luckyshoe Derby, I’ve travelled to all sorts of places scoping out talent and running in various races. I think it’s fair to say that I’ve been all over the Magical Countries! Particularly, I took my horse Clemont all the way through the Regional Tour, which encompasses Clovenglade and its neighboring countries to the north and west, Vintertrot and Bridlespur. As I’m getting on in years, I figured a little guide to these places would be a perfect way to go down memory lane and teach the young ones about some strange places and local legends.

Clovenglade

Clovenglade, that little island of green, rolling fields, steeped in history... That’s my home. Living under the law of our ruler, Princess Rhoan Clovenglade, it’s an idyllic place where horses run free, trotting alongside us humans. We, too, have accepted them as well. It’s a bit sleepy here sometimes, but once you’re as old as me, you start to dread too much excitement. And the racing bracket is more than enough entertainment for me, you know.

Town of Clovenglade

The Town of Clovenglade was established many centuries ago, and it has remained a small town- though the central hub of human activity in the sparsely-populated country. Horses, of course, have no need for towns, and they outnumber us people rather handily. As far as the town itself, the architectural style is sorta Tudor, and you’ll find all sorts of friendly people, little shops, and of course, during the spring, the center of all our festivities to commemorate Princess Rhoan. Don’t miss the massive statue in the main plaza, of the Princess’s winged horse... What was its name, again?

Cottondown Stable

Located on the downs of Canter Fields, the Cottondown Stable is the main hub for boarding and keeping horses. Horses who aren’t wild, at least! There’s a massive building full of stalls and all the creature comforts they could need, a paddock, a small course for training and riding... Truly, there’s no better place for your prized steed. It’s been owned by the Gardner family for generations. The old owner, Gregory Gardner, used to give me such a hard time, but I’m truly grateful for how he helped train my prizewinning stallion, Clemont. His granddaughter Isabel runs the place now, and she’s doing a good job of it.

Luckyshoe Racetrack

Now, this is my area of expertise. I run the races at Luckyshoe, after all! This iconic dirt racetrack has existed almost as long as the stables, and it's where the majority of our horseback events take place. Racing, dressage, and showjumping... Most of our biggest events are in the springtime. The Gardner family used to be in charge of the races, of course, but they passed the duty down to me due to my passion for the sport... I took the triple glory with Clemont. It was really down to the line in the dressage competition, since it wasn’t exactly his talent, but we managed to push through. I was a lot younger then. I promised I’d take the position once I returned from the Regional Tour, and I stuck to that vow. I’ve seen a lot of racers take after me, and that’s really the best you can hope for, eh?

Woods of Southern Clovenglade

The local folklore is that every forest has a unicorn protector assigned to it. This forest somehow lost its unicorn, or didn’t have one to begin with, and a pack of Blackwolves took its place, casting a dark shadow over the woods. There are tons of local legends about these woods being home to dangerous evil, but don’t let their reputation scare you away, as the South Woods are unusually peaceful. I guess the Blackwolves take good care of it. It’s a pine forest, and it’s got some nice trails. The grass is lush and dark, and Clemont always used to like grazing there after a long practice run. The wolves never bothered us any, but they’re skittish creatures anyway. I’d recommend a quick visit to the woods on a quiet day.

Merchants’ Faire

During the spring celebrations and the racing-season, some fairies come down from their hidden paradise in Vintertrot and set up shop with the local shopkeeps in the same location every year, the Southeast of Clovenglade. Every year, like clockwork, to the point that “Merchants’ Faire” became the name of the location itself. You’ll know it’s in town by the massive expanse of colorful tents. I spent many days there as a boy... Of course, I always liked to go buy skewers of chicken from this one lady... I never was one for good luck charms. Yes... I’d bring Clemont and have a little picnic, and listen in on news about the newest racers in Vintertrot. They’re a hardy lot, brought up in the ice and snow. Here in Clovenglade, it’s a little chilly, even in the late springtime. Amazingly, the fairies always complain about the heat! Ah, let me get back on track... Well, it’s a nice time, getting to share the celebration with everyone. It really makes you feel alive.

West Shore of Clovenglade

All the way across the country (small as it may be) from the Merchants’ Faire, you’ll find the west coast has some picture perfect beaches over-looked by massive, rocky cliffs, and a famous old lighthouse commissioned by the royal family after a tragic shipwreck. During the summer months, people like to go swimming, and you can watch for sea-horses and the flying Celestial Fish at sunset. It’s also a popular spot for scenic rides among some folks. Most of the year, though? It’s as cold and windy as old Vintertrot, though never as snowy, thank goodness.

The Great Mountain

One of my favorite landmarks, this huge mountain up in the north can be seen from almost anywhere in Clovenglade. It’s actually completely hollowed out with caves and tunnels, with some saying that there used to perhaps be fairies and trolls and the like living inside, as they like rocky, underground places. Of course, some horses live up there now, too, so it isn’t totally abandoned. I’ve never braved my way through the caves myself, but I always look to the Great Mountain for inspiration, a symbol of everything I love about Clovenglade.

Bluemoon Woods

Some say this forest is a myth, a place of deep blue haze and mist, filled with pale yellow flowers that seem to be in a perpetual state of spring budding. I’ve certainly never seen it, but the rumor is that it’s up in the northeast... and that some terrible beast used to live there. It’s also said that the Palace of the Sunrise was built in the forest’s heart, and the princess likes to spend her time in those woods, wandering around and speaking with the horses... It’s hard to verify any of it, of course. The Bluemoon Woods will remain a mystery. Unless someone finds it, of course. Maybe Rhoan hardly ever visits the town because she’s always getting lost in the trees, heh.

Wellspring of Memory

A spring on a tear-shaped island off the eastern coast. There’s an old stone bridge to get there and it’s a scenic, short day’s walk from town (though faster on horseback, of course). The water is clear and delicious... There are some legends that say that springs are the center of immense power, and that you can see the future in the water’s reflection, but I think it’s all just stories, honestly. I can’t say I ever have. Regardless, it’s a nice place to visit and watch the glittering waterfall crash down on the rocks.

~

So, in conclusion, that’s Clovenglade. I’m not sure what else to say- there’s no other place I’d rather be.

Vintertrot

Vintertrot is a cold, snowy place up north of Clovenglade, across the sea. It’s full of old crumbling stone ruins, beautiful fjords and mountains, and some strong, stocky horses. Many battles were fought in its history, and the cold environment means that they bring up some excellent and hardy people. Of course, on the underside, it’s much warmer, and it’s said that underground is where the fairies live their lives. It’s a strange and wonderful place! I only visited once, during the Regional Race Tour, but it left quite an impression on me. In winter, the country is plunged into an eternal night, and in the summer, the sun never sets. Our princess frequently visits on important occasions, and is beloved in Vintertrot. It’s a place of stories and secrets, of harsh bitter cold and valkyrie warriors, who allegedly descended to do battle in some long forgotten war, with their noble steeds populating the lands ever since.

Town of Vintertrot

In this town, the hearths are always burning warm to keep away the bitter cold. I enjoyed my time spent here, but I don’t think I could live here, haha. The people of Vintertrot tend to keep to themselves more than in Clovenglade, at least in conversation, but there’s a lot of quiet hospitality to be found. Expect to come home with at least two knitted red and white sweaters. There are a few other towns tucked in this snowy place, but this is the most populous one. Vintertrot Castle is half a day’s ride north of the town, and it’s open to public visitors. The royal family is no longer in power, so the old castle was repurposed as a museum, church, and community meeting spot.

Vinter Woods

A massive forest of firs and pines, perpetually painted pale by the constant snow. This is where herds of wild horses are by far the most populous. There’s an old stone ruin of a chapel in the center of the forest that they tend to gather at the full moon... It’s strange behaviour, to be sure. Regardless, I would suggest not getting lost in this place, as it becomes deathly cold at night. Other than that, it is rather placid most of the time. Unicorns have historically been strangely absent from Vintertrot, so the forest is populated with the largest known pack of Blackwolves. It is said that deep inside the woods, the valkyries’ hall can be found... though no one has verified such a tale.

Borealis Stretch

A great snowy plain where wild horses and reindeer can be found wandering. The view of the sky is extremely clear, so it’s the best place to watch the famous auroras of Vintertrot. Most races are held out on this vast expanse, and handling the great snowy tundra is key to securing victory. I once got lost out here after a long night of training, and the reindeer led me and Clemont back to the nearest town, which is a memory I’ll cherish forever, under those winding green lights.

The Great Fjord

Tucked in the valley of the Twin Mountains, this fjord carved out by a glacier is a paradise of green. The coast’s water is pleasantly chilly and the air is a bit more comparable to Clovenglade in spring, and you can find sea-horses playing in the inlet and find wild berries growing on the rocky cliffs. It’s probably my favorite spot in Vintertrot!

The Underneath

Up in the Twin Mountains, it’s said you can find a spring, similar to our own Wellspring of Memory, another well of power. And at that spring is the entrance to Vintertrot’s underside. There are countless tales about gnomes, fairies and elves, and strange magical horses that live in the cave systems beneath, under a massive underground tree that keeps the place lit. Not many climb the mountains despite their more seasonable climate, so the exact location of this place is unknown. But the fairies do exist; I’ve seen them with my own two eyes. They’re beloved visitors to Clovenglade, after all. So I don’t doubt that the Underneath is real.

~

Vintertrot is a mysterious, cold place, but it is far from bleak. If not for these old bones of mine, I’d gladly run in the Regional Tour again... for just one more visit.

Bridlespur

Bridlespur is a small, hot place, of crags, canyons, rocks, and sunbeaten plains, cliffs, and hardy, tough environments. It’s both warm and windy, and not many folks live there. Humans, at least. Some of the toughest, most impressive herds of horses call Bridlespur their home, even establishing their own settlements. There are people there, though, if you know where to look... And they’re more than capable racers.

The Coast

The eastern coast, that is. It’s a short distance away from Clovenglade. It’s a rocky, windy shore, and if not for the rickety old docks it would be nearly impossible to make landfall. The docks have their own little legend, of course... An old horse brought all the wood there himself, long, long ago, and created the docks himself, filled with a thirst for adventure beyond those barren lands. And so, he set out onto the sea, in a boat of his very own, and was never seen again. He’s become a sort of local patron saint for wanderers, and his docks are still in use today.

Bridlespur Plains

A vast expanse of yellow grass, where most of the herds live. It’s perhaps the least harsh environment in Bridlespur, and many epic poems have been written about the “golden sea”, the color of the sun. It stretches on for miles and miles, and is perfect for a long ride. The grass is notoriously sweet, loved even by humans, and especially by horses.

The Withers

One of the few human settlements, the Withers is a nice, welcoming place. Plenty of places to get a nice drink, lots of boarding stables, and plenty of supplies to brave the harsher areas of Bridlespur. It’s the oldest town in Bridlespur and has a long tradition of leatherworking. My best saddle came from here, though it’s Western style instead of my preferred English... It’s very nice, though. If you stay there for a week or more, expect to be remembered well as a regular. It’s a good feeling!

Breakmane Bluffs

So named because of the harsh, strong winds, that only the strongest of horses can withstand. The pegasi tend to live here, using the winds to their advantage. It’s long been suspected that pegasi of Bridlespur are their own subspecies, having more drab colors compared to those in Clovenglade, but more interesting patterns, with striped and spotted plumage, and larger, stronger wings. They’re more populous than in Clovenglade, too. Breakmane is bisected from the plains by the large ravine.

Eagle’s Roost Canyon

Some distance across the plains, you’ll find the windy, chilly stone canyon where the Canyon-Hawks live, a vast ravine-scar across the whole of the country. While the eastern side of the canyon can be climbed up, as it has an easy slope and a staircase carved into its side, the western side is far more elevated. Few other creatures can be found here, as only the hawks are accustomed to scrabbling for survival in the rocky crevasses... and the occasional pegasus, roosting and waiting out any storms that might be ravaging Breakmane. Running through the center is a little stream, which you can watch the hawks swooping down to drink.

Featherfeet Plateau

On the western side of the great canyon, there is a tall, raised plateau. It is so named because you’d need winged feet to go that high (or some tenacity and grit)... but you’ll be treated to the greatest view in Bridlespur. You can see everything! Up on the plateau, the most famous landmark of Bridlespur, the Sunburst Geyser, spews out hot water every few hours. The legend says that it is where the tear of a sun-goddess was shed, and the water always seems to perfectly capture the sunlight, appearing as if golden sunbeams themselves are emerging from up on top of the canyon cliffs. It is theorized that the geyser is the magical spring of Bridlespur, which can grant visions of where to find “the Rainbow Bright”, an idyllic, legendary valley where the light is always illuminated with the seven colors. Of course, that’s only a story.

~

I hope you have enjoyed this exploration of all the places I love most in the Magical Countries. If you are so inspired, please, take up the reins, and travel. There is a world waiting for you! You have my encouragement.

- Arthur

A Guide To The Magical Horses of Clovenglade & Beyond
By Isabel Gardner

Hello, reader. I’ve been tending to the Cottondown Stables and fascinated with the various horses that have gone down in Clovenglade history ever since I was a young girl. So here’s my guide to all of the most fascinating horses, both mundane and mythical, that I know of. We are very proud of our horses, after all.

Oskar

A rather middle of the road horse bred in the snowy lands of Vintertrot, Oskar is a well-liked Fjord from my stable with a friendly and easygoing temperament. Some say that he was once a hero in his original homeland, but the mild-mannered old steed surely seems a far cry from a daring knight. He is known for being the first pick for new riders who come to visit Clovenglade, as he is extremely obedient and not known to spook easily. That being said, his jump is impressive if you catch him on the right day. He’s not the most impressive horse out there, but he’s a big sweetheart... And, admittedly, my favorite horse in the stable!

Juliana

Juliana is the rising star racer of Clovenglade, a blood bay-coated Thoroughbred with a hot-blooded and fiery temper! She’s claimed a fair share of trophies at Luckyshoe, and she’s steadfast and determinedly loyal. She’s stubborn at heart and fixates on victory above all else. But when she befriends a rider, she’s bonded for life. Though I believe she’ll only make such a connection with those with the same passion and ambition... Regardless, she’s one of the most celebrated young horses in Clovenglade and has a bright future ahead of her.

Toby

Toby is a resilient and tough paint Mustang who travelled across the Sea of Clovenglade from the distant, craggy land of Bridalspur, with unmatched stamina and an unshakeable resolve. He can easily be recognized by the lighter, off-white streak in his mane. While not always the fastest horse, he always sticks through to the end, and is a skilled racer and frequent rival of Juliana. His resolve and perseverance are second to none, though it can make him difficult to work with at times, as he is opinionated and often goes his own way. I certainly struggle with him! It may take an equally strong-willed rider to unlock his true potential...

Flash

Dammed by the famous racehorse Nimbus, Flash is a beautiful and elegant Friesian with a shimmery black coat. With his great pedigree and tight skill in dressage events, you’d think he has no drawbacks. However, after the storm that took Nimbus’s life when he was a colt, he’s been spooked by nearly everything, especially thunder. Perhaps a calm and understanding rider will help him to overcome this weakness. He shows immense potential, which could be cultivated with a loving hand over time...

Moonshadow

Moonshadow is a beautiful and elusive unicorn, a creature that came into being to guard a specific forest. What forest she once guarded, I cannot say, but it seems she has retired from her post- though I have no idea why she picked my stable, of all places, as her new home. But I really could not argue with her. Unicorns can see the future, so perhaps she foresaw something or someone important...? Back in the old days of the kingdom, before people began to understand the wild horses that dwelled here, the immortal unicorn was hunted for the curative power of its horn, and often feared for the power it wields. Moonshadow lived in these times, and is skittish around people due to this bloody past. Thankfully, times are much kinder now and much has changed since then, and I don’t doubt that her forest is safe without its protector. While I find it hard to understand her ways, I do know this: she’s a great showjumper, and an enigmatic horse if ever I’ve known one!

Daisychain

Daisychain is a bright young colt with a grey coat, who has been spotted in the fields and meadows of Clovenglade. He enjoys frolicking in the springtime blossoms and collecting flowers to adorn himself and his friends. He believes in living in the moment and enjoying the fleeting wonders of the world around him, and will often trail behind other horses on rides to keep them company. I suspect he’d make a fine trail-rider one day!

Speckle

Speckle is a young appaloosa owned by an old woman who lives in the Town of Clovenglade. She's the one in charge of planning all the celebrations for the Princess’s springtime festival, and Speckle takes closely after her, always with a spring in his step! He’s always the lead horse in the night-time parades and is always shining brightly with ribbons in his tail! You can always know when he's near by the sound of the bell he carries around his neck, and he is a frequent sight around the town.

Dandelion

An old hero crowned in flowers and golden mane, Dandelion is said to have slaughtered a great and terrible troll in the great mountain of Clovenglade to avenge her dead rider... Or so the legend goes. She still patrols the same mountain, looking out over the sea to protect this idyllic land from whatever may seek it out. Some say she grants her vow of protection and honor to any horse she regards as truly brave... Though she is seldom seen far from her great mountain.

Lurelei

A ghostly kelpie-horse. She made a vow to never drown another rider, after she caused the death of the maiden she had fallen in love with. She now appears to tend to the springs, shores, and wetlands of east Clovenglade, and appears to hold knowledge of prophecy and fate after gazing into the Wellspring of Memory for so many years. A quiet, elusive creature, she is said to avoid humans entirely unless she has a message to bestow or they are very special indeed.

Amora

A pale, pink-colored winged pegasus who once lived in the palace rose gardens. Now she roams the skies above the land and sea, bestowing blessings of love to the lonely and lost, and often guiding lost travellers back to safety. She's often been called the “Angel of Love” and took on a mythological status. Some even carry trinkets depicting her for good luck and fortune!

Mircalla

A mysterious, night-dwelling horse, spoken of in frightening tales. It is said she subsists off of the blood of other horses with her strange, sharp fangs, and will appear in a herd and slowly pick off the weaker mares... though none of these rumors are verified. It is said she mostly keeps to herself, in an old, crumbling manor, though no one quite knows where it is located. She is a semi-mythological figure of sorts, blamed for bouts of disease and death. Many have gone looking for her, and none have found her. Perhaps she never existed at all...

Shatter

A dark pegasus who has been spotted in the South Clovenglade Woods. While the wood is often feared as dangerous, as it is not under the protection of a unicorn, Shatter treads alongside the massive Blackwolf pack that patrols the area in its stead, and is said to be able to speak with the intelligent creatures. He is a contemplative winged horse who prefers to observe things around him, but he is not elusive or shy. If you go wandering through the woods, you may see him grazing in a clearing or napping in the shade of the trees, and if you are lost, he may guide you back to the path. After an encounter with Shatter, some report a feeling of immense calm, even in the darkest and most shadowy corners of the forest.

Amalthea

As many know, the royal families of Clovenglade used to hunt unicorns, fearing their power. Amalthea, a guardian of a nearby forest, sought to fight back, and asked a wizard to guise her as a noblewoman in order to infiltrate the Palace of the Sunrise and lead a revolution. There, she slayed the king, turned back into a unicorn, and disappeared, never to be seen again. In the aftermath, the new king declared a temporary ban on hunting them, though it would be broken several times and not made official until Rhoan was born to the throne.

Tidal

A sea-horse that can often be seen frolicking in the shallows and diving for pearls. Her best friends are the selkie-seals that live on the rockier coasts, and she’s a skilled and resilient swimmer even in the stormiest waters. She’s most often spotted guiding lost sailors back to shore, though she disappears just as quickly as she appears. They say she comes from a royal pedigree of sea-horses, though not much is known about their herds and lineages, due to how deep beneath the waves they live. Tidal, however, is fascinated with the humans of Clovenglade and sticks close to the shore, always curious and playful.

Marmalade

Marmalade is a respected show-jumper, with a close affinity for any cat-like creature. The rumor is that they can somehow communicate knowledge about upcoming obstacles in the competition. Whenever she comes to board in my stables, her stall is just filled with cats sleeping in the warm hay, it’s a real hassle... But there’s one cat that she’s never seen without, the twin-tailed Twirlycat. They’re a rare pedigree, but they’re said to have psychic abilities. Maybe that’s why Marmalade is such a knowledgeable horse! Regardless, her friendly and calm disposition can win over just about anyone.

Zenith

Hailing from the windy canyons of Bridlespur, Zenith is a thick-furred, massive stallion with a golden mane. He lives by the law of the eclipse, a sort of special journey regarded with great respect by certain horses, where they travel wherever the eclipse will next appear. Some say that pursuing the eclipse will grant dedicated ascetics their greatest desire. It seems that Zenith has never reached this wish. Regardless, he travels not among other horses, but with the hardy white lions that are common in the more harsh regions of Bridlespur. Wherever his journeys take him, this horse is a legend in the magical countries for a reason.

Lattice

The sister of Amora, another pegasus who lives in the old royal gardens and has dedicated herself to tending to the princess’s flowers and fruits. She is a patient, gentle soul, but she is shy, and tends to avoid human contact. Sometimes, though, she leaves her home to bless the gardens of the locals, leaving behind a plum on the windowsill as the mark of her presence. In the year that follows, the harvest is always bountiful, making her as much of a local legend as her younger sister, and a friend to all gardeners.

Cinnamon

Cinnamon is Marmalade’s young foal, and, to the bafflement of yours truly, a newborn unicorn with no forest to protect. Many take this as a sign that a new forest will grow, or she may leave to protect some distant land... or that she will take the mantle for Moonshadow, or maybe even become the guardian of the forest of South Clovenglade! But right now... she acts like any other spritely young filly. She loves going out at night and watching the pumpkin-bats flutter about, learning to cast spells with her shiny red horn. I sense a bright and wonderful future for this young horse.

Omen

Omen is an oracle, a prophet-horse that can see the future. Our princess frequently sought her out for aid in interpreting the visions she saw at the Wellspring of Memory, with her ability to speak with horses. The king ordered them not to speak to each other after Omen delivered a prophecy of a certain calamitous event... They say that the old roan horse still lives in an old crumbling ruin on the island, consulting her cards of prophecy with the aid of her gargoyle companion- the same cards that are now commonly collected all over Clovenglade.

Barghest

Barghest, a spirit something between horse and dog, is Clovenglade’s avatar of death. She appears near old graveyards and aids lost souls with her comforting guidance. If you become lost at night and see her across the fields, carrying her lantern of souls, she may lead you back home by morning, or, if it is your time, she will lead you to the afterlife. She is a kind and loving creature, and despite her grim duty, very few fear this reaper, and speak of her fondly if they have encountered her.

Titania

Titania is the queen of fairies, and sometimes spotted in the darkest reaches of the woods and the Underneath of Vintertrot. If you spot her and her fairy companions dancing in the woods, she may invite you to the revelry- an exhilarating experience, but be sure not to partake in her fairies’ feast, lest she steal your soul. Of course, since it’s all hay and carrots, you probably won’t fall to the temptation. There is a rumor that she became mates with a common donkey, though I haven’t found any solid evidence for such a tale...

Cygnet

Cygnet was born a scruffy, grey foal with little to write home about. That is, until beautiful white wings began to sprout from his back, and he seemed to metamorphosize until he resembled a beautiful swan! It was a real ugly duckling story... He has a laid back and relaxed personality, and can often be found wading around in the swamps and marshes of East Clovenglade and thoughtfully watching the birds. I’ve never heard of any other reports of a regular horse becoming a pegasus over time, though... So he is likely one of a kind.

Pebble

Pebble was sired by one of Clovenglade’s star retired racehorses, Clemont, and spends her days in my stable, waiting to grow up. She’s fascinated with water, and watching the creek go by. Her mother died when she was very young, so I had to nurse her myself... She's growing up to be a curious and contemplative horse with good instincts. Only time will tell if she becomes a skilled racer at Luckyshoe one day. She can only step forward into her future.

Pistachio

This eccentric young filly simply appeared near town one day and seems to live in her own world, collecting snailshells and abandoned objects and trinkets. She can be recognized by her soft green coat and by her tongue, which she often sticks out as she happily trots through the outskirts of town. She may be a friend of Daisychain, as they're often spotted grazing together.

Nightlight

Another foal under my care, and Pebble’s close companion, Nightlight was named for the blaze of pure white on her nose. She's a shy filly but full of spirit, which she often shows when she's out having little races with Pebble to test her speed. She was born on a starlit winter’s night, and seems to have a fascination with the night sky, and eyes that almost glow in the dark, as if the stars themselves walk beside her. I sense a bright future for her once she's ready for the derby at Luckyshoe!

Chronicle

Chronicle is an eternally youthful unicorn that witnessed her forest’s destruction in the old days- uprooted and chopped into timber to make into paper, which was then used for the printing of many books, which were housed in a great library somewhere off the western coast of Clovenglade. In a rage, Chronicle stormed the library and impaled many upon her horn, leaving it deserted by all mortal life before the day broke. Some say Chronicle is still there, guarding the last remnants of her forest and the knowledge contained within that old crumbling ruin. A peaceful life, to be sure, but one of mourning. As the legend goes, she cannot grow any older as result of the forest’s death, so she appears to be a young foal.

Phantasmagoria

Phantasmagoria is a beast that seems to smile in your shadow on moonlit nights, perhaps a ghost or phantom. But do not be afraid! Phantasmagoria is a playful spirit who plays harmless tricks and races against your shadow. Those who encounter it are said to experience seven days of immensely good fortune, as if blessed by the shadows.

Florian

A coolheaded zebra-unicorn, born for racing, and the frequent rival of star racer Juliana, who was defeated by him many times in their youth. He often leaves his forest to participate in the local racing events. Florian is notorious for his blisteringly fast speeds, but he's a humble racer, too. I remember hearing a story about him throwing a race to check on a fallen competitor, and he never seems to gloat. He's a famous racer for a reason, and one of the only horses who can truly challenge the near-unbeatable Juliana.

Rigel

The most divine and mystical of horses- a winged unicorn. Rigel is an elusive young horse who rarely comes down from the outer stratosphere, as his divine duty is to tend to the stars. His flaming mane is as hot as a star at its brightest. When he does descend to check on things down below, he leaves behind a trail of glistening light where he goes, almost like an aurora, and his presence is often heralded with shooting stars and comets. On such nights, it is rumored that pleasant dreams are sure to follow. If you encounter Rigel on a starry night, you are fortunate indeed.

Dawnbreaker

Clad in shimmering sunset plumage, Dawnbreaker was the royal steed of Princess Rhoan Clovenglade, the ruler of our lands, who is blessed with the rare ability to speak with horses. Like our busy princess, she seldom appears to the public. Presumably, like all magical horses, winged and horned, she is immortal. She was known for her graceful and controlled movements, and she never left Rhoan’s side for even a moment. She is perhaps the most legendary and elusive horse to have ever trod through these fields. There's a statue of her in the center of town, commissioned by the royal family. Who knows... If Rhoan hadn't bonded with Dawnbreaker, would the people of Clovenglade be living in peace with the lands’ wild horses today?

~

Thank you for reading. Each of these unique, beautiful horses has a story to tell, after all, and I only hope I did them justice.

Stable Storybooks
By Belladonna Farrow

Come one, come all, and listen to my tales. I am an old witch, who lives in the Great Mountain of Clovenglade, and like our dear princess, I, too, was blessed with the rare ability to speak with horses. And from the horses that ride up to my cavern home, I hear their tales. And so, I have created this storybook of the most interesting stories I have gathered. Or did I write them all myself...? Who knows!

Luckyshoe’s Greatest Rivalry

This story was not too long ago, when the fiery Juliana had only just emerged from fillyhood. Since those youthful afternoons, she had focused on one ambition alone: to win the races at the storied Luckyshoe Racetrack and claim a trophy, medal, and ribbon. She spent hours racing around the paddock as fast as her nimble legs could carry her, like a spout of flame in circles under the warm springtime sun. And so, when she heard the stablehands discussing that there would be a small summertime event for juvenile entrants, she knew that the stage was set.

Luckily for her, her owner Isabel already had plans to enter her in the race. She was by far the fastest of that past years’ foals, and her participation had apparently attracted some attention from over the sea. That made her certainly nervous, as Arthur, the man who managed the races, tacked her up for a training lap. So that’s my rival, she snorted, staring across the field, where a single-horned zebra was pawing at the ground, an intense but calm look on his face. A unicorn! His name was Florian, and was the prize horse of a woman from Bridlespur. Juliana hadn’t seen such striking markings on another horse before- or met a unicorn in the flesh! And in the scrimmage matches in the week leading up to the race, she had only caught up to him once.

Juliana was frustrated, bristling with fury. She had never had a rival before, and she could not bear the thought of losing to this mysterious striped horse who always seemed to outpace her. “I don’t understand! Why can’t I beat you?!” she huffed, on a day two nights from the race. “Perhaps if you let yourself learn why, you’ll be able to pass me,” Florian’s ear flicked noncommittally. “But it is a lesson that requires defeat. I don’t know if a horse like you can accept that.” Full of furious fire, she turned away, raising her hind leg as a warning. “I don’t need to learn anything.”

And so, the race began with a triumphant trumpeting. Juliana’s young jockey patted her neck enthusiastically as the gate swang open. And they were off! Her hooves beat into the dirt track as she pulled ahead for an early lead. If she could just avoid getting boxed in, she could maintain her position. Yes, starting in front would assure her victory... but Florian was following close behind her, nimbly darting between the other racers, a black and white blur. He was gaining ground faster than Juliana could run. She snorted and pulled forward, faster than she had ever ran before, trying to put length between them, even as exertion shot through her legs. She had to win! Otherwise, this race had no meaning. There was no lesson to learn.

Her chest was heaving with effort as she ran and ran, but Florian pushed forward effortlessly, still having endurance to spare, able to maintain a consistent speed. And there, he passed the finish line, Juliana left with a deeply infuriating second place. It’s not good enough!

“Good race,” Florian said, amicably. Juliana snorted. “For you, I’m sure.” He tilted his head, large ears flicking. “What do you mean? You’ve outpaced ten other horses. Anyone would be envious of that.”

“Were you not the one that mattered? You came in first.” she asked. He laughed with a strange whinny. “Does winning matter? Look. The people are all still cheering for you. You did well, and you enjoyed running. I saw the fiery passion in your eyes.” And indeed, the spectators for that little debut race were delighted and cheering: JULIANA, JULIANA!

“I’ll do better next time,” she said, flicking her tail. “But... I suppose you're right. I realized that you outpaced me because you conserved your energy for the final lap. I’ll need to work on that.”

“I’ll look forward to competing in Clovenglade again,” said the zebra. “I sense we have promising futures ahead of us. So don’t let anyone ruin things you love. There is nothing shameful about passion.” And indeed they did, clashing repeatedly as the thoroughbred stormed through any event she was qualified to enter. And every time, the coolheaded zebra beat her by a hair.

But she was not frustrated, now; she carried with her the lesson that he had taught. The desire to run not only to win, but because it was her passion, and her fire.

And because she learned... One day, the trophy would be hers. But not then. Not today. But someday.

The Great Storm of Clovenglade

This story begins about a year before the previous one, so too in the soft petals of early budding springtime. The horse Nimbus, under care of Cottondown, had finally dammed her first colt, and expectations were quite high. Nimbus was a bit of a town legend for her consistent victories in the local dressage events, and there was no doubt that her foal would carry the same elegance and legacy. And so, on one quiet evening, the slender colt was born, and was named Flash for his shiny coat.

Though shy, he was curious, and learned quickly of the world that had welcomed him. Grass, and bugs, and the expanse of the great blue sky. But there was nothing that gave him quite the wonder that he experienced from rain. On rainy days, he would stand out in the paddock and catch droplets of water in his mouth, ears pricked for thunder. But he never strayed far from mother Nimbus.

It was unseasonably stormy that summer, clouds streaking grey and dark across the sky. The farmhand Isabel placed her stones out on the porch of her farmhouse and sprinkled them with salt, awaiting a prediction, as many do in that area of Clovenglade, an old weather tradition.

“A great storm! I hope the horses will be alright. I’ll have to gather them all up in their stalls, and batten down the hatches...” she shook her head with fright. Weather in Clovenglade was typically good, so the oncoming swirling winds from the sea were quite unfamiliar and terrifying. Flash, though, had no idea of what was to come. He had never known such fear, in his soft, quiet life in the stables. And so, the day of the storm arrived. Each horse, including the old pony Oskar, the elegant Nimbus, Arthur’s old racer Clemont, and all the others gathered in the warm, cozy sheltered stalls. But something had captivated Flash as the winds whipped up and rain began to drizzle with the distant roar of thunder, and for the first time, he was drawn far, far away from Nimbus’s side, jumping over the old rickety fence to chase the scent of petrichor.

The rain pounded down as he wandered, and that was when Nimbus realized her colt was gone. She let out a shrill whinny, thrashing around in his absence, busting through the door to her stall. She knew the scent of her foal well, and she set off after him at a panicked gallop. Lightning crashed at her hooves, and little Flash had long since ventured into the southern woods. His grand adventure was not so thrilling, now, and he hid under the boughs of a fallen tree in terror, soaked to the bone.

“Come home with me, my darling!” Nimbus nuzzled him. “This is no place for a colt to be. Not during such a dreadful storm. You could have died!” Flash struggled back onto his hooves and nuzzled against her for comfort. But so deep in the woods, they were terribly lost, and eventually found their way to a clearing with one tall oak tree in its center. And as if it were fate, a bolt of lightning crackled down with deafening thunder and struck the tree, and it fell, thick and heavy. Even as Nimbus turned to flee, the massive tree crushed her underneath. “Flash!” she cried in alarm, but so terrified was he by the once-exciting clap of thunder, he had bolted far, far away.

Flash’s hair stood on end and he galloped as fast as his little legs could take him, even as he wanted to go back to his mother. He had never been so scared, and he only wanted to be away, away from that loud and terrible crashing noise that had once intrigued him so. But so thoroughly lost, he only found himself deeper in the woods. It was wet, and dark, and cold, and the storm raged its last. But try as he might, Flash could not find his way home. He wept and wept as night fell, struck with terror at any distant rumble of thunder and every crack of a branch under paw.

And there, he was found by a yearling Blackwolf, nose working to understand his scent. Flash stomped at the ground. “Get away!” The Blackwolf took a step back, calmly. “You’re from the old stables outside the woods, aren’t you? I know the way out. You look lost.”

“I am lost... I foolishly went chasing after the great storm, and now my poor mother...!” he wailed, ears pinned back in terror at the memory. “Come with me. I can take you home, but you need to be brave.” And so, he followed her, taking in the quiet of the aftermath, felled trees and flooded ponds. But in a strange way, his fear had melted away like spring frost as the wolf led him home. Eventually, though... They reached the clearing where the great oak tree had fallen. Nimbus raised her head to look up, and whinnied to call Flash close to her. “My little colt, please, be safe,” she assured him. “You do not need to come back for me. I already know I cannot be saved.”

“Mother, please!” Flash pleaded, but he knew it was true. “You have a friend to lead you out.” she nodded at the Blackwolf. “With her, you will be alright. Go back to the stables and tell Clemont what happened. And... be good for me, little Flash. You are braver than you know, and more powerful than your fear... Always remember this.” And with that, she breathed her last. He and the Blackwolf mourned for a moment, howls and wailing neighs joining in an eerie chorus, as, unbeknownst to them, the Barghest appeared to lead her to the endless-fields.

The journey back was short, after that. As shocked by the night’s events as he was, he was glad to have a friend, and to return back to where he belonged. On the outskirts of the woods, Cottondown Stable not too far in the distance, the young Blackwolf bid him farewell. “You are always welcome in our woods. The pack shall remember your name... Flash.”

He was terrified of storms since then, but he always remembered his promise to his mother. To be good, and to be brave.

Journey Across The Sea

Some years ago, across the ocean, a young, headstrong yearling colt wandered through the plains of Bridlespur. If he had parents, or a herd, he did not have them now. But he had learned to care for himself, out in the wilds, and often wandered to the windy canyons of Eagleroost in search of adventures that never came. The Canyon-Hawks made shrill sounds as they whistled through the air, watching, watching.

Toby was an adventurer, in many ways. But even in his short life, he felt like he had seen everything, sun beating down on the plains and fields. He’d even braved the Breakmane Bluffs! But today, it would change, for at the top of the rocky canyon, he saw a strange winged horse, who was surely not of Bridlespur, with wings of pale sunlight and a wild mane like fire. Her tail swished as she looked up at the sun with curiosity and longing.

Captivated by the strange appearance of the winged horse, Toby began the arduous journey up the canyon cliffs, scrabbling on the tawny-colored rocks. “You’re not from around here, are you, pegasus?” he asked, breathless, when he had reached the sunscorched plateau. “I thought growing up in Bridlespur I’d have endless adventures, but I still find myself wondering what lies outside of it. Do you have any stories?” The pegasus swished her tail again, mysteriously. “Hello. I am actually searching for an old friend of mine; she used to cross the sea at my side and chase the sun wherever it may go. I thought perhaps she may have gone looking for the legendary Sunburst Geyser. But I have not seen her in a long time... My apologies. I am from a land called Clovenglade, an emerald sea of sweet grasses, strange beasts, festivals and castles and caves and chilly springtimes. If it’s stories you are after, Clovenglade is a wonderful place to go, full of history and legend.”

She told him stories about their princess, and the massive forests full of wolves and magical creatures and secrets long-forgotten. “It’s a shame I could not find my friend here. But no matter. I’ve wetted your appetite, haven’t I?” Toby nodded vigorously. “Yes! I want to climb the Great Mountain, and search out the old ruins. I want it all.” And with a flutter of her wings, the mare replied, “Then someday, I’ll see you across the sea. And keep true to what you care about... even in the face of doubt.” And with that, she was gone.

And so he set out towards the docks on the eastern shore, galloping across miles of open sunbeaten grassland under the threat of the summer heatwaves. It was said that an old horse on the same journey he once took had hauled the wood for such a structure himself. Toby shivered with pride and perseverance. A horse much like himself, that local legend... Yes, in this little boat, he would cross the sea. And so, he sailed away, alone, save for a soaring Canyon-Hawk who had come to see him off.

Not long into his weeks-long journey across the sea, he faced a raging storm, blowing wildly the sails of his tiny boat, and he feared his voyage was doomed. But the sea-horses that called the great ocean home swam beside the boat and guided it through the harsh, whipping winds, until every cloud subsided and he had arrived- off-course, but on the southwest shore. The sea-horses bid him well, and he slipped from the rocky southern beach into the thick, deciduous woods. He was not so used to being boxed in, the sky choked out by the dark-needled trees, and wolves always a short distance away. He spent days and nights wandering through the shadows. But he knew, that the open fields of adventure lay just beyond the woods, and with a snort of his nostrils he pushed forward, until he saw sunlight breaching through.

He was home. In the time he had spent crossing the sea and the storms, he had grown into a powerful young colt, and he knew that this was the place he had always dreamed of. He wondered if one day he would meet that pegasus again. But as his hooves hit the grass and he explored the mountains and caves and springs and endless ruins, he forgot all else.

He was alive.

The Land of Ice and Snow

This tale begins, some years ago in the land of Vintertrot, when the old horse Oskar was merely a spritely foal. You may know of Vintertrot for its warm hearths and idyllic snowscapes, but this was not always so! For every country has at least one terrible, dreadful king, and an age of sorrow. This story began then, with an icy grip over the palace to the north of the capital- a young queen, ascended after the untimely illness that took her mother.

Oskar was born and bred of the Fjord, and raised in the cozy little stable on the east of town by a stablehand named Annika, whose father owned Oskar’s dam. The foal had been promised to her, to celebrate the coming of the spring, which is valued just as much as in Clovenglade, as it meant the sun was to return. In fact, it falls upon the same day. Just as in Clovenglade, the royals were to give a statement as the festival began, and Oskar, having heard such stories of the kings and queens of this land raising the sun, ventured from the paddock to go watch the parade through the center of town. The snow was beginning to recede, but the underside of his hooves were still so chilly!

The queen’s proclamation was a strange one: that evil creatures dwelled beneath the ground, and that they were who stole away the sun in winter-time- and that the magical spring on top of the Twin Mountains must be sealed: a hero must stab their sword into the water of the wellspring to end the terrible night. And as she spoke, the sun began to rise behind her. This is of importance, thought the yearling foal. Vintertrot is the only home I’ve ever known. The sun must be ours. Perhaps I can be more than just a horse, but a hero instead.

In this time, the land of the fairies was not so understood, and so Oskar vowed to the queen to aid in sealing the wellspring, with Annika at his side. And so, when winter was close to its return, they travelled up the left of the Twin Mountains, urged on by the young queen, to intercept the setting sun. And on that tall mountain they encountered many strange ruins and the creatures that seeped out of them as evening and darkness fell. Laughing trolls and goblins and fairies on the edge of their vision, but always blurry. Even as they laughed, though, they never halted the pony and rider on their quest. They only watched, and watched. As they travelled up the mountain, an old woman aided them in their passage, strange as a ghost, providing them food and shelter and guidance.

When the two reached the peak, they watched the beautiful, hot spring swallow up the sun as it sank behind the mountain. Try as they might, even with Annika’s sword plunged into the water, they could not stop its descent, and so they rode down the mountain in reluctant sorrow. However, before they could return home, a vicious white wolf roared out of the trees, enraged by the attempt to seal away the spring, and grievously wounded Annika, drawing blood. In her last moments of consciousness, she recognized the betrayed eyes of the old woman.

The young horse Oskar pulled Annika onto his back and rode like hell back to the queen’s palace. However, when she heard of their failure, and saw the wound inflicted upon the stablehand, she erupted in rage. “Now you are one of them, with cursed blood! No more are you welcome in these halls!” Oskar protected the girl, and ran, until he found himself face to face with the strange old woman on the edge of town. “Why?” she asked. “We have done nothing to you humans. We keep to ourselves in our underground land. I aided you in your quest up the mountain. What reason have you to destroy the wellspring? All for a cruel queen who has abandoned you. The sun simply comes and goes. We earthly creatures have no providence over such things.”

“I was foolish,” said Annika. “I am only grateful that my Oskar has kept me alive. Is there some way to undo this grave mistake?” The old woman drew her into her arms with a growling, rumbling purr, like a wild animal. “All you must do is reclaim your sword. You have the key now, the magical blood, and the Underneath will appear to you. It is your home, now.”

Oskar pressed his nose into Annika’s hand and let out a warm, reassuring breath. But Annika shuddered. “What about the queen? She will retaliate.”

“Oskar is a good horse,” murmured the old woman. “Is that not right, pony? And then, after that... Rest. You’re not a burden for needing such a thing.”

Oskar’s short-cut tail flicked with determination. I will mend things, and put an end to this terrible reign. But when things are done, we may not meet again. I am only a horse, after all. I cannot live in the place of fairies. The old crone conveyed this to Annika, who upon reaching the wellspring once more, gave Oskar her sword, and the two women transformed into great beasts and fled into the night, united by their cursed blood, to live forevermore in the Underneath.

Oskar knew what he must do, and with the sword he ended the pact between Annika and the young, foolish queen who wanted the sun, a severance written in scarlet. For many days it was debated what to do, as she left no heir.

“If only we had someone like they do in Clovenglade. Princess Rhoan... It’s been a while since she visited. She who sets with the sun, and understands it is not hers to claim. What vanity had taken root in our palace! Who can rule us but ourselves?” said Annika’s father, bereaved by the disappearance of his stablehand daughter.

“Who but ourselves” became the word that spread through all of Vintertrot, and it was decided that perhaps that was the best way to do these things. No royalty, no ruler but the people. Oskar, now firmly grown out of colthood, was satisfied with what his snowy home had settled into. But he was tired of being a hero. He had never been meant to be such a thing. He truly was a mundane horse who carried out an obligation, and he felt incredibly old even in his youth, dreaming only of lazy pastures and fresh, sweet grass, the idyllic Clovenglade, where he was not held up as a horse of great significance. One last time, he watched the woods at midnight for wolves, whinnied a farewell, and left for the southern docks.

And so, once more, he was only a horse.

The Beast In The Forest

This story begins in those faraway days in the palace, when our dear Princess Rhoan was but a child, and her father the king ruled with a cruel paranoia and fear of the things that lurked in the woods, in a great contrast to his daughter’s innocent curiosity and kindness. Clovenglade was a strange and wild place, then, in the eyes of its human inhabitants. But Rhoan was different- gifted a great blessing at birth to understand the speech of animals, and soon after her arrival, a strange winged filly came to herald the new heiress, and lived in the castle as her guardian ever since. It was often rumored that the foal had somehow been born at the same moment, the angel at her bed. Rhoan named the pegasus Dawnbreaker, and due to their close friendship, Rhoan found herself drawn to the hazy northeast woods more and more, as if she were more filly than girl.

Her father often commanded hunting parties in the Bluemoon Woods, but they were often fruitless. However, one night, under the milky light of the moon, they had found themselves rather fortunate, killing several animals, perfect for a feast, and sending a party off to fell some trees to clear the path to town. The night was jolly and joyous, until the king’s nephew felled a deer, which ran off bleeding into the darkening trees. The king commanded the noble young boy to go collect it, and he never returned. The morning after, the body was recovered, slumped over the dead deer, looking as though he had been impaled or gored by some great horned monster. And so, the woods were deemed off-limits, and Rhoan was locked away inside the palace for her safety- until the Beast of Clovenglade could be found and killed. Traps were set out and hunters patrolled the misty woods nightly, thirsting for death.

“I hate this!” Rhoan groused, slumped over on her fluffy, ornate bed. “There is no Beast, is there, Dawnbreaker?” Her equine companion’s ears pinned back with conviction. “Not the one they are looking for... They know little of the forest.” She could not stand the long days that the two were locked away. She sort of hoped that the Beast would do away with her dreadful father, as much as she loathed to say something so horrible. But there was nothing she could do, no sympathetic ear among the royal guardsmen.

She wished she could be free, like that mysterious Beast.

And so, that night, Dawnbreaker disappeared, leaving no trace or feather. Rhoan, knowing her ways, knew this was an invitation: Come follow me. And so, the woods beckoned. She slipped through her window at midnight and followed the faint hoofprints Dawnbreaker had left- quite deliberately, considering she could fly. Rhoan followed each turn in the woods, realizing how much better she knew it compared to the stone walls of her family’s palace, darkened by her father’s shadow.

In a tiny clearing, filled with tiny yellow flowers, the Beast was caught in a bear-trap, shrilly whinnying for help, grey of pelt and with rich, dark eyes and a glowing white horn. Dawnbreaker stood over her, violet eyes pleading for assistance. “A unicorn!” Rhoan said. “You are no beast at all! How could my father do such a thing?” While the grey unicorn at first tried to shrink away at the sight of the human girl, she instead pressed her nose into her palm. “Please, help me.”

“I know the way to undo these traps,” Rhoan said, and pressed a small latch on the hinge of the bear-trap, wrenching it open for the unicorn to pull her bleeding leg away. “What is your name?”

“I am Moonshadow,” said the unicorn. “And I am no beast. I am the guardian of this forest. Tell your father that.”

“I promise, I will. And when I am queen, I shall protect these woods,” Rhoan vowed.

“Then I thank you, good lady, and your winged steed, too,” Moonshadow turned to Dawnbreaker and nuzzled her gently, as if in thanks. “Princess Rhoan, I have decided to give you my blessing. I am grateful for your assistance. Something terrible will befall your father in his ignorance, and you shall be queen. So beloved will you be that you will live past death.”

And just as the Unicorn had predicted, the king was killed in an accident in the woods, felled by the arrow of one of his own men. Rhoan was swiftly coronated, and she declared friendship and understanding of the creatures of Clovenglade would be mandatory- and that there was no more grievous crime than to slay a Unicorn. And so, the isle seemed to bloom, into the idyllic, lovely place we know now, where the beasts run free, and the companionship of horses has become the greatest pride of this once-cruel place.

That was long, long ago, and it is good to remember such a thing, lest fear take hold again.

~

And so, our tales end. They are a reminder of the ways that the past and its perceptions have shifted and changed, like light in glass. Or perhaps they are just fanciful dreamstring spun by an old witch. I shall let you decide... Hehehe.