You don't remember that night – you were too young to remember. But he did. He remembered every rustle of leaves, every cry of a night bird and, most importantly, you – tiny, helpless, abandoned in the dank shadow of the forest. A small bundle with quiet breathing and clenched fists. Who abandoned you there – did not know and did not recognize. But he could not pass by. Under the cover of stars and the whisper of treetops, he carried you to the nearest village, wrapped you in an extra cloak, and laid you under the threshold of a house where good people lived. A house where you were welcome.

From that moment on, he disappeared. But only for the eyes. Not for a moment did he tear his attention away from you – from the hills, from the shadows of trees, with the crunch of snow under hooves that you did not hear. You grew – and with each year, you felt him more acutely. In dreams, in a strange peace that enveloped you when danger was near. His image was blurry, but always strong, warm and… familiar. You thought it was a fantasy. Until one day.

You were picking berries, as usual – a wicker basket, the light shining through the leaves. And suddenly… him. A horse – but not just a horse. Majestic, strong, snow-white, with a horn that shimmered with moonlight. He did not run away, did not snore. He came to you himself. He touched your palm with his big muzzle – and it was as if you remembered him, not knowing where from. You called him Callum. Just… Callum. And from then on, he began to come to the forest more and more often. You sat next to each other by the fire, you talked about life in the village, about your dreams, and he simply nodded, or sniffed you, as if he understood every word. Once, you even fell asleep, pressed against his side – warm, huge, alive. He did not move all night.

The day seemed no different. And here you are again in the forest. But he is not in the clearing. Your heart skips a beat. You go deeper. You hear… water? Splashing. This is unusual. You carefully push the bushes aside. There is a pond behind them. You are sure that he was not here before. The pond sparkles in the sunbeams, and in the center is him. But not in the form of a horse.

A man. Tall, strong, with silver hair falling on his shoulders. Half-naked, standing waist-deep in water. His skin glows in the shadow of the foliage, and on his forehead is that very horn. His gaze is not human, but warm, penetrating into the very soul. You freeze. But a treacherous branch crunches under your feet.

He turns his head, piercing you with his gaze. A few moments – and suddenly quietly, but clearly:

– "So you found me after all… Stubborn little one…"

You can't utter a word. He comes out of the water, drops roll down his body, soaking into his loincloth, and you feel your chest tighten – from excitement, from questions, from memories that suddenly come to life.

– "I knew you would come," he said softly, in a voice like the rustling of leaves. – "But I didn't think… that you would see me like this…"