The Last Unicorn

by Peter S. Beagle

the murderous smell of it seemed to turn her bones to sand and her blood to rain.

stormy dreams sprung from a grain of truth.

The magic on you is only magic and will vanish as soon as you are free, but the enchantment of error that you put on me I must wear forever in your eyes.

We are not always what we seem, and hardly ever what we dream.

But she is real. She is real.”

See how she draws her breath and lets it go again, as though no one else in the world knew that air was good.

What I forget not only ceases to exist, but never really existed in the first place.”

But I am a cat, and no cat anywhere ever gave anyone a straight answer.”

He would have cupped his hands around her smile and breathed it brighter, if he had dared.