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"Lili, there's something I must tell you. We haven't much time, but I need you to know before I go."

Lisha couldn't read her mother's face, longer than usual, sadder than she'd ever seen it. Her scratching at the bark in the roots of a tree quite forgotten in an instant, Lisha hopped up to comfort as best she could. Perhaps she was too little to help, she thought when her mother stepped back, shaking her head.

"No, Lili. Listen."

Lisha stopped in her tracks, confused but obediently hanging back. "What is it? Have I done something?"

"Of course not. You remember the dragon, don't you? When Father went away to keep it from catching us?" When Lisha nodded, her mother hesitated. "Well I- That is, it- Lili, I've done a terrible thing."

A terrible thing? Her blood felt quite cold all at once. The image of her father flashed before her, head hanging low, eyes so very sorrowful as he made them promise him they wouldn't try to find him. It was the only way, he'd said, the one way that he could think of for the dragon to leave them alone. The two of them would remain and hide where the dragon wouldn't think to look, distracted by its captive. Mother couldn't have—but her eyes said otherwise. "But.. but he said," Lisha whispered.

"I couldn't keep hiding forever! We were meant to run. I need to run. But," her mother added in an odd, new voice, "I knew you would be willing to stay put if it was to be safe."

"Don't leave me." Fear stirred up a storm in her as she began to understand a little. Her eyes filled with tears. "No."

Her mother only shook her head once more, stepping back further, ready to bolt. "Just remember, Lili. No matter what it says, you mustn't change back. Take the form it hates, and don't change back. Never ever. Then, you'll live always." And she was gone, lost in the trees almost before Lisha knew it.

"Mother, wait! Will you come get me soon? Mother?" But only silence answered her calls. She was alone.

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***

Lisha woke where she had settled in the roots of a comfortingly large tree, tired after a day of tracking Meera's travel at a distance. She stretched and looked up into the branches high above. It had been a long, long time since she last dreamed of the day the dragon had snatched her up. Perhaps it was the angry thoughts she'd had falling asleep, remembering the first time Meera had turned her way with huge, dark eyes bleeding tears like ink, and said those same words: 'Lish, there's something I have to tell you.'

The branches creaked above her, swaying in the wind just loudly enough to cover her sigh as she stood, testing her limbs—thankfully free of soreness—and strode away. Meera's scent was mingling with that of faint salt, so she was nearing the sea. The thought bothered Lisha. A siren-blood shouldn't be anywhere near such a place, even though she knew it wouldn't harm her. Not in and of itself, anyway.

It was the things Meera went to do that were the problem. She'd said that time, 'there's something I have to tell you. You're not going to like it, and I hate it, but I'll do it again.'

Maybe it wasn't even the things she did that were the problem. The problem, really, was what the things she did, did to her in return. And maybe that said more about Lisha than it did about her. She'd listened while Meera cried in her arms, but all she could think about was how she was glad it wasn't Meera whose blood was spilt this time. It wasn't Meera who was lost.

Good.

She changed back and shook out her mane, then set off at a relaxed clip after the trail once more. Her mother had been right, unicorns were meant to run.