Tai-shan lay down against the near wall. The daïcha knelt beside him, chafing him with a soft, dry falseskin, smoothing the damp from his coat like a mare licking her foal. The sensation was delightful. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Presently he heard her companions moving cautiously about the chamber. He scarcely marked their activity, any more than he heeded the grunting and shouting of the males on the beach beyond.

Sleep had nearly claimed him. His surroundings seemed vague and distant now. Stormwind gusted. Rain drummed against the chamber’s walls. Beneath him, the floor shuddered. Much splashing and clambering and shouting from without. He heard a low grating like distant thunder. None of the two-foots in the room gave any sign of concern. Only half-waking, he ignored it all.

The tilted floor seemed to right itself momentarily, becoming more level. Then it began rocking gently, very gently, smoothly tossing and rolling like treetops in a summer breeze. Such an odd dream to be having, the dark unicorn mused. It felt like drifting in the sea. He let his thoughts dissolve into the hypnotic swaying of wooden planking beneath him, the soothing rush of wind outside, the plash of nearby sea, and the gentle creaking of rain-soaked wood. He slept.

Tai-shan awoke with a start. The deck beneath him was swaying in earnest: pitching and tipping. It was no dream. Alarmed, he lifted his head. The daïcha was not within the wooden chamber. Two of her companions dozed on falseskin pads across the narrow space from him. The dark unicorn struggled to gather his legs under him as the caveshell’s floor shifted and tilted. He no longer detected the quiet patter of rain. Time to return to the beach, he realized.

Maintaining his balance with difficulty on the slowly tossing, gently rolling surface he passed through the chamber’s egress and emerged onto the open expanse of the caveshell’s back. The sky had indeed cleared. Only stray puffs of cloud now flocked the heavens. It was midafternoon. To his astonishment, he beheld a great tree growing from the caveshell’s back, webbed with vines. Male two-foots swarmed the webbing. Others standing below hauled on the dangling ends.

Tai-shan stared, fascinated. The caveshell lurched and heaved. He spotted the daïcha on the far side of the tree, conferring with the eldest male. Cautiously, the dark unicorn started toward her, then pitched to a halt with a horrified cry. The beach had vanished. The caveshell was bobbing in the middle of the sea!

Whinnying, he reared. Male two-foots dropped their vines and scattered, shouting. The wooden surface beneath the dark unicorn’s hooves bucked violently. He nearly fell. Panicked, he sprang to one edge of the caveshell’s back. Open sea lay beyond, deep and blue-grey. The caveshell pitched the other way, sending him skidding toward the opposite side—sea there as well. Nothing but grey waves moved all around, empty and calm.

With a scream of consternation, Tai-shan wheeled. The caveshell tilted precipitously, hurling him against the near rail. He kicked at it. One hind leg tangled in a tarry coil of vine. Frantically, the dark unicorn pivoted, twisting and plunging. He lost his footing and went down. He heard the eldest male barking orders, but his ears were too full of his own terrified whinnies to heed.

“Tai-shan! Tai-shan!”

The daïcha’s frantic cries penetrated his frenzy only dimly.

Twisting and bucking, the dark unicorn glimpsed her struggling toward him. The eldest male had hold of her forelimb, seeking to keep her back, but she shook him off angrily and came toward Tai-shan slowly, speaking gently now in her lilting, unintelligible language.

“Tash, ‘omat. Bikthitet nau. Apnor, ‘pnor….”

None of the other two-foots moved. Panting, heart racing still, the dark unicorn stood shuddering. The daïcha leaned against him, stroking his neck and chest. Her touch trailed lightly along his flank, then down his haunch. He tensed as he felt her grasp the vine that so painfully encircled his pastern. Then he realized she was worrying it, using her nimble, long-fingered paw much as a unicorn might use her teeth to loosen the vine and pull it free.

“Tai-shan,” the two-foot lady crooned. “Tai-shan.”

Still stroking him, she gestured beyond the rail, beyond even the blue-grey curve of sea. With a shock of wild relief, the dark unicorn spotted what he had missed before: land—just at horizon’s edge, a narrow ribbon of shoreline stretched. He felt the jaws biting down upon his heart ease. The caveshell was not simply adrift, hopelessly lost. The shore remained—barely—in sight.

Tai-shan’s balance swayed. Fever burned in him still. Wearily, he sank down. Later perhaps, when his strength returned, he could spring over the rail and swim for the strand. Doubt chilled him suddenly. Did he dare desert the caveshell—leaving the fire behind? Exhausted, his mind fogged, he shook his head. Time enough to ponder that later. For now, resting his chin along the top of the low rail, he lay quiet. The sun felt warm along his back. The daïcha called to her companions, who approached with food. She sat beside him as he ate.

It occurred to him then for the first time that her people did not seem the least disconcerted at their caveshell’s now resting in the sea. Strange. Baffling. Perhaps they wanted it to be in the sea—but why? Presently, at the eldest male’s direction, his twofoot minions unfurled a great falseskin from the tree. It belled out like the huge, round belly of a pregnant mare.

The image emblazoning it resembled the strange, fire-breathing figure before which the daïcha and the other two-foots had bowed: dark-limbed, its body like a two-foot’s, a crescent moon upon the breast, a skewer in one forepaw and in the other, a trailing vine, yet its head that of a hornless, beardless unicorn with blood-rimmed nostrils and glaring eyes.

By late afternoon, Tai-shan had come to realize that the caveshell was moving, the distant shoreline changing. The great falseskin caught the sea breeze like a gryphon’s wing and pulled the caveshell along parallel to the strand. Gradually it dawned on him that his hosts and their entire shelter were sliding westward without themselves taking a step. The dark unicorn lay amazed.

Later, the wind fell. The grizzled male gave orders, and most of the younger males descended into the caveshell’s belly. Moments later, Tai-shan spied long, slender limbs emerging from the vessel’s side. A hollow booming began, like the beating of a mighty heart. The slim, straight limbs dipped, shoved backward, rose, and dipped into the sea again. The caveshell was using its many legs to crawl like a centipede across the waves.

At dusk, the wind returned, and the caveshell’s limbs withdrew. The steady booming ceased, and the males emerged from below to unfurl their windwing again. As the air darkened and chilled, the daïcha rose. Tai-shan followed her carefully back to her wooden chamber.

Inside, basking in its fire-warmed air, he listened to the great tree creaking and straining outside, its taut vines rubbing against each other as the windwing heaved and burgeoned. The gentle lifting and falling of the caveshell seemed almost restful now, much as he imagined the rocking motion of a mother’s walk must feel to her unborn foal. No panic troubled him, now that he realized the firekeepers were traveling, taking him with them. He wondered what their destination might be.