The next day, Nina woke to a shrill whinny of panic in the distance. She glanced out from the shelter at the rain, still coming down in sheets. She heard the whinny again, and swore. Then she slipped out of her clothes—best to keep them dry—and splashed her way toward the sound.

She saw what it was: a fallen tree had wedged in some stones, trapping one of the younger unicorns in a depression in the ground which was rapidly filling up with water. Two big unicorns, its parents she guessed, were pawing at the tree, but only jamming it in tighter. The water was almost up to the foal’s nose.

Nina swore, and waved the unicorns off, then bent down, grabbed the end of the tree, and tried to lift it free. “Nnngh!” She just wasn’t strong enough. “Nnngh!”

Then she heard hooves on stone behind her, and a sort of warm strength suffused her. She tried one more time, and the tree came free—and a moment later, so did the foal.

Then Nina looked down at the two feet of horn protruding through the front of her chest.