She was called Ira…the watchful one. Her eyes deep blue…. her silvery mane flowed down her back. When she ran, at a glimpse it seemed she barely touched the ground.
She lived where magic pervaded the cloud forest…in a mysterious world veiled in mist where a rustle of the wind, reminded her fairies were near.
With her long white horn protruding from her forehead she was identified as a magical image in the fairy otherworld. Beyond her forest was a world where belief in magic was failing…her presence was required.
Some would see…some would believe in the unicorn…in magic.
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