Catskill looked around, deliberately turning herself with her legs rather than moving her neck to keep her legs moving. It was… about two and a half hours before noon, she guessed from the sun. She was at the bottom of a small cliff, barely seven feet tall, and the forest clustered tightly around her. A fire was crackling next to her. The snow had been swept away from the surrounding area. And next to the fire squatted the unicorn, mumbling angrily and rocking back and forth, her head in her hooves. Served her right, the way she didn’t handle that bear. When Catskill cleared her throat, the unicorn flinched and looked up.