The journey was not easy as I quickly found out. The mice and geese were mostly just food for the werewolves, there was a very uneasy truce between the dwarfs and the trolls, and the captain would retire early to his quarters each night and drink until he howled and stumbled out only to beat one of the crew.

On the fifth day I awoke to an oppressive feeling in my head. Exiting my room I had to step over the captain, passed out in a pool of his own sick in front of my door. I walked out into the thick fog of the morning and, as was my habit each morning, gazed out over the landscape. Only today I was not greeted with sunshine and lollipops, but smog and screams from deep below.

A shudder ran down my spine, “what is it,” I asked to no one in particular.

“Ye dunna want te look down below lass. This be where they have enslaved them poor unicorns. Grind up their horns for the magic.” Ulgar’s voice was quiet in his reply.

Tears welled up in my eyes, “but who would do such a thing?”

“Humans, lass. Humans.”