The blackberry vines are bare, and night comes early. Fog settles in a thick mantle over the land, and the unicorns know it is finally safe to come out of their summer hiding places. All across the flatlands, they stretch their sparkling white haunches as they breath the cool, refreshing air of autumn.

But still, every owl cry and fern rustle makes them tense. They are always on guard, always vigilant, always read to run. It's the only way to survive.

Moonracer's nose twitches as she sniffs the breeze. She can smell a trace of danger on the fog, a putrid scent that could only come from one place—the hot bellies of hibernating dragons.

She tosses her snowy mane as she worries to herself, I hope the dragons don't wake up early this winter. They will be ravenous. She has known this fear for as long as she can remember. It is in her blood.

"Moonracer!" her mother calls. "Time for mushroom hunting." Moonracer's stomach rumbles. She hasn't eaten since before the rhododendrons started getting their blossoms.

Ugh, Moonracer thinks to herself. Another winter of foraging mushrooms, staying out of sight, and trying not to wake up the dragons. What if there's more to life than this?

Just then, thunder rumbles noisily from the top of the mountain, and the fog thickens with the rotting stench of dragon snores. The unicorn herd trembles in unison and hides without a sound.