Fiddlestyx loped down the road with unearthly poise and grace. His coat shone with the moon’s own luster and his hooves glinted with reflected light. His large black eyes drank in the darkness around him and gave nothing back. His mane, a long flowing column of silvery hair, whipped in the wind and streamed like a standing wave. His horn stood proudly in the center of his head, and his reared suddenly, tossing his head to the side, simply to hear that horn slice through the air with a hiss.

The forest stood in front of him, and beyond it the small town set there a generation ago by men. Men who alternatively believed and disavowed Fiddlestyx existence. He stopped, peering deep into the trees. Considering. Deciding.
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In the town on the other side of the forest, Brooke sat and kicked her bare feet in the clear cool pool of water behind her house. She was happy. Almost 13 now, Brooke would soon be married. For once, unlike that unlucky bitch Kimmy, Brooke’s parents had picked a wonderful husband for her. Brooke thought about Alessio and smiled. He was tall and brave, and so very kind. Brooke shivered with delight at her thoughts of her wedding, and her wedding night. Soon, she thought, oh so soon.
—————-
Fiddlestyx dug in the dirt with a hoof. The dirt refused to cling, knowing better than to soil the golden hoof of a unicorn. To do that would be to damn your own soul. Dirt, it was not often realized, had a soul. It was the soul of the Earth and the Earth did not wish to damn itself over something as silly as clinging dirt.

The moon hid behind a cloud, fearful of what might happen. The stars twinkled, those bastard joyous stars, always hoping for the darkest of thoughts to prevail. Never trust the stars, for they are wicked and quick to shine light down upon your most hidden secrets. Fiddlestyx knew this, and though the stars often glistened, shedding their light upon his flank in ways that made him even more beautiful, he never trusted them. He would slyly glance at the stars under his thick, luscious eyelashes, but never with love. Never that.

He took off then, into the forest. Fiddlestyx shivered once and then bolted. The wind itself could not keep up with him. His horn pierced the air, scattering molecules left and right, threatening to break a few on the sharpness of its point. Fiddlestyx ran, and then ran some more.
—————-
Brooke splashed twice and then stopped, caught frozen in fear. Behind her a sound. A rushing, whistling sound like the wind but not like the wind. She turned and that’s when she saw Fiddlestyx. Brooke stood and smiled. She flung her arms wide, the joy spreading across her face like an infectious wound.

Alessio leapt out of nowhere and landed between Brooke and Fiddlestyx. He wasn’t about to let this bastard claim another one. His hands grew taut, twisting against the wood grain of the pitchfork he carried. He stared at Fiddlestyx, hefting his weapon, and swore to the stars that never would this unicorn pass.

The horn through Alessio’s gut felt cold. It blossomed there, between one moment and the next, before Alessio could blink. The stars, he swore he could hear, laughed their tinkling laugh. Fiddlestyx shook Alessio’s dead, oozing corpse off his horn and stared at Brooke. Gore and blood ran down Fiddlestyx forehead and he would have a maiden clean it. He would have her do … all sorts of things. For Fiddlestyx wanted virgins – and he would damn well have them.

The town heard her screams. They found only Alessio and hoof prints. And they knew. They cursed, wailed and cried, but they also knew. They always knew, to tell the truth, but they refused to do anything about it. For no one could stop the unicorn when the rage and lust took him. Generations had passed, hundreds had met fates worse than death at the hooves and horn of Fiddlestyx, but none stopped him. Not even the stars.