The White Unicorn – A Fable of Love, Sacrifice, and Choice

High in the snow-clad mountains, surrounded by unforgiving cliffs and biting winds, stood a modest cabin where a little girl lived with her stern but caring grandmother. Nights in the mountains were harsh; the winds howled like restless spirits, and the snow lashed against the wooden walls with icy determination. The grandmother groaned in her sleep, muttering complaints about the storm’s persistence, while the little girl, wide-eyed and wonder-filled, lay awake under her quilt, listening. She fancied the wind was singing — an eerie, beautiful song that spoke in a language just beyond her understanding.

One such night, as the wind’s wailing sharpened into whispers and sighs, a sudden, sharp knocking echoed through the cabin. The girl sat up abruptly. At first, she thought she’d imagined it, but when the knock came again, louder and more insistent, curiosity overcame her hesitation. She tiptoed downstairs, careful not to wake her grandmother.

The fire in the grate had died down to soft embers, and the windows were frosted over. She hesitated, then unlatched the door. A blast of wind and snow swirled inside, and with it came a shining, ghostly figure — a unicorn, white as moonlight on fresh snow, its coat shimmering faintly in the dim light. The unicorn trembled violently, soaked with melted snow, yet its eyes were clear and dark, filled with an unearthly pride and sorrow.

“You’re beautiful,” the girl breathed.
“Let me help you.”

The unicorn, his voice soft yet commanding, said:

“Dry me and grant me warmth, little one. Without your kindness, I shall not survive the night.”

Without a second thought, she brought down her own towel and blanket, carefully brushing the snow and ice from the unicorn’s back and mane. She toweled him dry until his coat gleamed like silver under starlight. Then she led him to the fire, revived its glow, and wrapped her blanket around his elegant form.

In the warmth, the unicorn’s regal manner returned. He spoke of his kingdom of marble pillars that touched the sky, of arches studded with glittering gems, of lands where beauty was boundless. The girl listened, entranced, sitting in her thin nightgown, barely noticing the cold that crept through the cabin. Before dawn, the unicorn stood.

“Must you leave?” she whispered.
“I must,” he replied.

She begged him to stay, offering him the woodshed for shelter. The unicorn agreed without much interest, and she fashioned a cozy bed of wood chips and straw, leaving her blanket behind to keep him warm.

A Second Visit

The next morning, her grandmother remarked on her early rising, but the girl only smiled quietly, her secret safe. However, weariness overcame her, and she drifted to sleep by the hearth, dreaming of a golden dog who wrapped around her and filled her with warmth and comfort. When she awoke, a long golden hair was caught on the fireplace tools, and she tucked it into her pocket, puzzled yet comforted.

That night, the unicorn returned, even more radiant than before, and this time he chided:

“You never fed me. I starved in that cold shed. If you don’t feed me, I shall perish.”

Ashamed, the girl gathered all the oats, grains, and bread in the house and laid them before him. The unicorn sniffed disdainfully but finally ate, brightening as he did so. He shared tales of glorious battles, enchanted fairies, and powerful sorcerers who had adored him, though he had forsaken them all to return to his solitary kingdom.

“There I shall reign alone,” he declared. “Men will remember my name with both wonder and sorrow, for they shall never see me again.”

The girl, her heart aching, asked if he would be lonely, but the unicorn laughed:

“Lonely? I am the fairest and the cleverest. I need no company.”

When dawn broke, he prepared to leave. The girl begged him to stay one more night, but the unicorn was unmoved.

“It is my will to go. Farewell.”

Weeping, she watched him depart into the snowy dawn, his mane catching the light like strands of silk.

The Third Night and a Price to Pay

Another day passed, and the pantry was nearly bare — the unicorn had consumed nearly all their food. The girl’s hunger gnawed at her, and exhaustion returned. She fell asleep again by the hearth, dreaming of a golden dove carrying a basket filled with pies, fruits, and delicacies beyond her wildest dreams. She awoke comforted, and tucked another golden hair — found on the hearth — into her pocket.

That night, the wind returned with a mournful song, and once again, a soft knock called her to the door. There stood the unicorn, but wounded — blood trickled from his perfect forehead, and his coat bore scrapes and bruises.

“Staunch my wound, or I shall perish,” he said coldly.

The girl tenderly cleaned and dressed his wound, cradling his head in her lap, kissing his proud, cold brow. The wind cried around the cabin, singing of pride, love, and loss.

“I must leave,” the unicorn said weakly.

“Don’t go!” the girl begged. “Let me protect you!”

But the unicorn insisted. Desperate, she asked to follow him, and with indifference, he permitted it.

Thus barefoot and in her nightgown, the girl stepped out into the storm. She nearly turned back, but the pale glow of the unicorn ahead compelled her forward.

They crossed valleys and icy fields until they reached a frozen pond, where her slippers froze to the ice.

“Wait for me! My slippers are stuck!”
“Leave them. I wait for no one,” the unicorn replied.

She abandoned her slippers, the ice burning her feet like fire, yet she followed.

When the pond ended in frigid waters, the unicorn stepped lightly across the surface, untouched by the waves. But the girl cried:

“Carry me! I cannot cross the water!”

“I carry no one,” he replied coldly.

Despair filled her heart — until suddenly, a blinding golden light illuminated the valley. A golden unicorn, glorious and strong, appeared and challenged the white unicorn. They fought bitterly, the golden one piercing the heart of the pale beast. The white unicorn collapsed onto the ice, bleeding.

The golden unicorn turned to the girl:

“Come with me. I’ll take you to a land of eternal warmth, of fruits and flowers, where you’ll want for nothing. Let me save you.”

But the girl, heartbroken, refused.

“You hurt him! I love him!”

“How can you love one who cared nothing for you? I would give you all.”

“No. I want only him,” she whispered.

Understanding sorrow in her eyes, the golden unicorn said:

“I would have saved you — as I thought best. But I see now — you are free to choose.”

Then he plunged his horn into the icy waters, his golden body dissolving into a brilliant light that warmed the world around them. The white unicorn stirred, his wounds healed, his coat whole again. The girl, warmed by the golden unicorn’s sacrifice, stood.

“Will you come with me?” asked the white unicorn, at last.

“No,” she replied gently. “I must return to my grandmother. But visit me if you wish.”

The unicorn bowed and vanished into the dawn, leaving only hoofprints and the fading shimmer of light. The girl returned home, the warmth of the golden light lingering in her bones. She curled up beside her grandmother, safe and content.

The next morning, her grandmother brewed tea.

“That’s what you get for wandering about in the night,” the old woman scolded.

“Yes, grandmother,” the girl smiled softly, sipping her tea, remembering the night’s strange and beautiful journey.

Moral of the Story

True love often sees beauty beyond cruelty, and while others may offer salvation, only the heart knows where it truly belongs. Yet, every choice carries a price — of pain, growth, and awakening.