Work Text:
Whilmenia had survived a full year in this strange place, by the seasons' turning, and very little surprised her anymore. Perhaps naively she'd thought nothing could. She was abruptly proved wrong one day when her only plan was to harvest honey and berries; she clambered down a ledge towards the meadows and looked up, to see several new creatures. She froze.
They idled among scattered birch trees, five all together, stretching their graceful necks to nose at flowers. In shape they were almost deer, but thinner, with a compact tail leading to a lion-like tuft. A white coat which, every time they moved, reminded her of a different beauty: seafoam, snow, moonlight. Most notable was undoubtedly the horn in the center of their foreheads, striking towards the sky. How they shone.
Was she hallucinating? No. Early spring cold seeped through her vest and bit at her palms; the walrus' tam kept her ears very warm and her head clear. What she was witnessing was real. She felt reality sink further into her as she watched them. She sat down slowly, lest she spook the poor things, and simply watched in awe. No one was around to see her gawp, after all.
A thought occurred to her: this creature was likely new to science. Not to literature, obviously-- in Latin unicornis; uno, one, and cornu, a horn. But if she was the first person to see it in life, she had the right to name it. The idea made her smile.
What would the plural noun be? In her reading she'd seen supposed a carnival, a miracle, blessing, surprise...
Well, one might as well take small joys where she can find them. "Luxodocorneus mysterium," she decided out loud. The beginning of spring was an appropriate time for a miracle, she supposed.