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The unicorn touched him a second time, over the heart,
“I remember you. I remember.”
but Molly Grue saw their voices thump home into her like arrows, and even more than she wished the unicorn back, she wished that she had not called.
The king turned and he looked like Haggard.
As for her, she is a story with no ending, happy or sad.
“One word might have been enough,”
“I wish I could see her once more, to tell her all my heart. She will never know what I really meant to say.
As for you and your heart and the things you said and didn’t say, she will remember them all when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits.
“She touched you twice,” he said in a little while. “The first touch was to bring you to life again, but the second was for you.”
am full of tears and hunger and the fear of death, though I cannot weep, and I want nothing, and I cannot die.
but I do. I regret.”
No sorrow will live in me as long as that joy—save one, and I thank you for that, too.
