The hill, a heap of moss, twigs, and stones, seemed at first as though it was poorly glued together. As it slowly rose up and began to shift, some of the looser bits rolled off and dropped down onto the grass.

    Then it paused.

    A deep voice rumbled from the hill:

    “Don’t you know Froke is sleeping? Go away!”

    Vesper saw a giant arm the size of a tree trunk swat at the fairy. She jumped into the air, narrowly avoiding what was sure to be her death, squashed like a giant bug. Quickly, the fairy got angry, picked up a stick from the hill and began jumping heavily—as heavily as it was possible for a fairy to jump—and beating the stick down, emphasizing each important, unintelligible syllable she screamed at the hill.

    Again, the voice rumbled gently from deep within the hill.

    “What do you mean, star? There are many far stars—that’s why Froke sleeps in a heap. You know what nighttime means little night-light? Dreams! Now, don’t make a peep! It’s time Froke goes back to sleep.”

    Vesper understood only half of the conversation—she could make out the words of only the rumbling voice that came from somewhere under the hill of moss and stones. The fairy did not quit so easily, and so the exchange continued.

    “Don’t be so ridiculous . . . it’s a costume, not a chrysalis,” the deep voice sighed. “All right, night-light, Froke is up already. Froke’s quest goes on for the best.”

    Vesper’s heart jumped out of her chest when, without a sound, the entire hill rose up from the ground and formed into a giant. He stood taller than a basketball net, and moss, lichen, and several varieties of grasses clung to him. The hill-shell on his back somehow retracted, shrank and fell back behind him like a rough-hewn cloak, and finally his features became visible. His patchy, tangled fur mixed with the grasses and moss, and the smoother parts looked like rock. His chest reminded Vesper of a turtle’s belly shell. Compared to his massive shoulders, his head sat low on his torso, and his cloak, like a sheet of liquid rock, protected his back. From his forehead grew short horns, and several spikes poked out of his skin.

    Vesper caught his eyes glancing down at her. They glinted like quartz crystals behind his heavy brow, and the brightness of them betrayed his rough exterior. Graceful for a giant, he walked toward Vesper and stood before her and the fairies in an instant.

    “What . . . for this you ask? Like Froke told you—it’s a mask. It was nice of you to ask, alas.”

    His low voice sounded rhythmic and sing-song. The giant reached out toward Vesper with a rocky hand. She flinched away.

    “Humph. Will silly Jill stay still for a giant hill?” Froke drawled and yawned a great yawn.

    “My name’s not Jill, it’s Vesper. And I’m not silly,” she said.

    “You may jest if you insist, but we must know which you this is,” Froke said with a sleepy yawn.

    Froke’s great hands reached out, his fingers, each the size of a tree stump, pinched the unicorn horn on Vesper’s mask. He started to pull while he held Vesper’s shoulder down with a single finger of his other hand.

    The mask didn’t budge. Vesper felt the connection the horn made to her skull and she started screaming from the pain.

    The giant let go.

    “Not a mask? Flabbergast!” Froke said.

    The little fairies flew in excited circles around them.

    “It’s true, my name is Vesper. And, this was a unicorn mask,” she replied, “but something’s changed with it. It feels strange . . .”

    She stood up and paced as her fingers traced around the edges of the mask where it had fused to her face. It did not seem like a mask any longer. Vesper felt her fingers touching her cheeks and around her eyes she didn’t even notice the mask anymore; her vision was clear, and the eyeholes had no beginning or end. She felt a smooth, short coat of fur begin at her cheekbones and eyebrows.

    “It must be my imagination playing tricks. This place just can’t be real. I can’t be here.”

    “Imagination, yes, but no tricks, no jests,” Froke said.

    “I must be dreaming,” Vesper whispered.

    “You mean a dream, like sleepy things you’ve seen?” Froke reached into his shell cloak and pulled out a tiny book, “Like this? Like Alice?”

    The hill giant held it out so Vesper could read the title. It was a copy of Alice In Wonderland.

    “You are not dreaming, Vesper,” Froke continued. “Well, not like Alice. But Froke dreamed you’d be coming, that’s why Froke’s wait is bliss. We all swim in dreams—awake is not always as awake as it seems.”

    Then the giant eyed the cover of the book, which in his hand looked the size of a postage stamp. “But Alice, it seems—she just fell asleep.”

    “Where did you get that book?” Vesper couldn’t believe her eyes which followed the book as Froke stuffed it back in his shell cloak.

    “A gift for Froke, a gift bespoke, from a friend, a great wizard,” he defended.

    “Then I must be dreaming. Fairies, talking rock monsters, wizards, and a copy of Alice In Wonderland. If this mask would just—come—off,” Vesper said, feeling the edges again.

    “If you are truly not she, then remove this mask, Froke must see,” the giant said.

    “I can’t take it off, it’s glued on or something. It must've changed somehow. Maybe that weird powder,” said Vesper.

    “Do not flinch, do not shook, friendly Froke will take a look,” the giant said as he leaned in to inspect Vesper’s face, head, and horn. “You are no imposter born, you are the starry unicorn!”

    “Like Dauntless the unicorn?” Vesper remembered the name from her grandfather’s book.

    “Yes, like Dauntless! Froke be I, of the western hill giants,” Froke said as he bowed his head and lowered himself.

    “As an apprentice of the Order of the Silence Keepers, Froke is pledged to protect the Evening Star from all the creepy creepers,” he said.

    Bowing down Froke still loomed twice Vesper’s height.

    “What do you mean Silence Keepers? And creepy creepers” Vesper asked.

    “The Order of the Silence Keepers balances this world with yours, and all the worlds. Silence is the portal’s key, to the places beyond and in-between,” answered Froke. “Froke was given this post, away so far, to wait for the return of the evening star. Froke saw you in a dream, arriving from the sky like a beam. Froke saw a falling star born into our world as a great and mighty unicorn—not a little girl—appearing near the Horn of Dauntless to begin her quest to best the shadow dragon. You know, for such a great beast, you’re quite small, to say the least.”

    Froke scratched his mossy head and studied her, as he came to terms with the fact that Vesper did not match the unicorn he had seen in his dream. To Froke, Vesper looked tiny and fragile, just as the fairies looked small to Vesper.

    “Whoa, slow down. Shadow dragon? What’s this about me—and a quest—and a shadow dragon? I was just going to a dance . . .” Vesper’s eyes filled with tears of frustration.

    “Froke will say without rhymes this time—you must have come to Noominia to protect us from the second shadow dragon. You may not yet know, but only a unicorn can defeat a shadow dragon foe, like Dauntless the unicorn, who defeated the first shadow dragon born. Oops, it kinda rhymed.”

    “Noominia? Like my grandfather’s book? Why don’t you get a real unicorn—a unicorn from Noominia—and get her to fight the dragon. I’m out of here.” Vesper stood up.

    “Yes, um . . . no. Real you are, and the only unicorn here, by far. The shadow dragon eats the light of our realm, and even as we speak, it lurks and hunts and overwhelms. The fairies will not survive much longer, and soon all of Noominia will fall into slumber. Froke has the honour of escorting the evening star to the Keeper’s Keep, it’s not too far.”

    Vesper moved over to what used to be the tunnel and began hitting and kicking the horn to find a weakness.

    “I came in through this tunnel, there must be a way out here, too,” she said through her tears.

    “It is not a tunnel, evening star; you cannot go through there. This is the ancient horn of Dauntless, destroyer of the first shadow dragon, a dragon slayer.” Froke cleared his throat with a loud rumble and began to recite from memory:

Until the Evening Star appears

The way to salvation remains unclear,

For on the star, our future rides,

To return the light and turn the tide.

Only she can see the Dragon’s heart

And transform it with her lightning spark.

    “By stabbing it in the heart with my horn? Ridiculous,” Vesper said. “Not to mention stupid. Killing both myself and the shadow dragon? Even more stupid! I won’t do it.”

    “So, you read the First Age, in the Chronicles?” responded Froke.

    “I read the poem about the unicorn Dauntless, or part of it, in my grandfather’s book.” Vesper began to realize she may not be safe in this world. It seemed her unicorn mask got her mixed up with some prophecy where she was expected to sacrifice her life to kill a shadow dragon, just like Dauntless. All she could think was how she wanted to escape Noominia and this dreadful prophecy.

    “Poem . . . yes! A very interesting fact, in fact, as Froke is also a poet who writes poetry,” Froke said with a slight nod and a flourish of his hand.

    “You? Write poetry?” Vesper asked, stunned if not a little curious.

    “Froke is gifted at rhymes—Froke might show you sometime. Now a game, it’s tons of fun—you try to finish the next one: Now we must move really fast, for a chance like this won’t . . .”

    “. . . last?” finished Vesper.

    “Ah! Froke knew he would get along far with the evening star. You could say: we get along, like a dance and a . . .”

    “That’s enough rhyming games for me, thanks,” said Vesper.

    She sniffled, looking around. Her eyes had fully adjusted to the dim light in the atmosphere above, and the glowing fairies who still hovered nearby.

    “Ah, sigh. Worth a try.”

    Froke passed Vesper a lump of moss from his shoulder to wipe away her tears. Then he pulled out a cloak from his shell, and handed it to her.

    “Put on the cloak to stop the night’s cold. You’re now under the protection of magic old. Take flight, night-lights! A unicorn was born from the horn, and is here to make things right!” Froke said with excited glee.

    The fairies swooped in around Froke as he began to walk.

    “Where are we going?” asked Vesper.

    “First, to the tower to consult the Order of the Silence Keepers,” said Froke. “They will know what to do about the shadow creepers, and help you with your leaky peepers.”

    Froke continued walking toward the forest at the edge of the clearing.

Vesper, with no clue where she was, and no one else offering help, decided it was best to take a chance and follow.