Feline’s house stood by the stream — sturdy, smelling of rye bread and birch bark. Its walls were covered with wooden planks, and the roof seemed to have grown grasses. On the doorstep, Feline stood with one hand on her hip and a rolling pin in the other — as if she were preparing for battle, not welcoming a guest.

  “Well, here you are,” she said, looking Aline up and down. “Thin. Laughing. Can you work?”

  “Er... I try,” Aline replied hesitantly.

  “Well, then you’ll keep trying. Come in. I don’t bite.”

  Inside, it was warm. The air smelled of flour, fried onions, and lavender. On the table, a pot of soup was already steaming, and on the bench lay a huge sack of tubers.

  “The first rule,” Feline said, rolling up her sleeves. “A woman must know how to do everything. And more. Because the world sometimes slips from under your feet, and you must stand.”

  “What if there’s someone nearby who can help?”

  “Praise the stars. But don’t count on it. Sometimes help is a coincidence. But you — you are always there.”

  They kneaded the dough together, fetched water, repaired the chicken coop roof, and even chased away a sly fox that had sneaked in for eggs. Aline became more and more amazed — how did Feline have the strength, the laughter, and... the freedom? She sang while kneading bread. She told stories while mending mittens. And she was silent when gazing at the sky.

  “You know everything,” Aline said in the evening, wiping her hands.

  “No,” Feline replied. “I know how to live. And that means not being afraid to learn. Everything else will follow.”

  They sat at the table, lit a candle, and Feline quietly added:

  “A woman isn’t someone who waits for a prince. She’s the one who knows where her bow, salt, and axe are. And when love comes, it won’t be a crutch. It will be beside her. Because you are already standing firm.”

  Aline remained silent. Then she smiled. Because she understood: she still had much ahead of her. But she was going there — not alone. With herself.

  Aline sat on the bench by the window, wrapped in a warm shawl. On the table, a mug of tea with mint and linden was steaming. Feline was fiddling with the stove, humming something under her breath. Outside, the morning dew sparkled.

  And suddenly — a soft knock on the window. Not loud, almost polite.

  Aline looked up — and froze.

  Outside the glass, leaning forward as though just an ordinary guest, stood... a Unicorn.

  White. With a horn the color of moonlit silver. It looked at her sternly yet very alive, as if it knew everything about her.

  She slowly opened the window.

  “Hello?” she said uncertainly.

  “You finally woke up,” it said. “We need to talk.”

  “Who are you?”

  “A familiar. Yours. Call me Shargel. Though... better not call too often. I’m busy.”

  He flicked his ear and looked around.

  “You have a bad habit of holding a spoon wrong. Let’s start with that.”

  “With the spoon?”

  “It all starts with the small things. Magic isn’t fireworks. Magic is like tea. Not the one in the cup, but the one inside.”

  Feline, without turning around, said:

  “Let him in, Aline. If the familiar has come, it’s time.”

  Aline hesitantly opened the door, and Shargel entered calmly, as though this were his house.

  He looked at Feline:

  “The mistress of the house is wise. Not everyone would let a familiar in without questions.”

  “We’ve seen worse,” Feline replied, placing another cup on the table.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Shargel gently lowered himself onto the rug by the window. His mane gleamed, as though it absorbed the morning light. He looked at Aline with a patience she hadn’t expected from a unicorn.

  “Listen carefully,” he said. “A familiar doesn’t come by choice. We don’t appear just like that. We choose. We feel. I chose you.”

  Aline bit her lip slightly.

  “But... why?”

  “Because you have power. A power you don’t yet know. Magic is sleeping, Aline. But it’s already breathing. You feel the branches under your feet before you step on them. You know when someone is thinking of you, even before they speak. This is only the beginning.”

  He looked at her closely:

  “And now remember this: I’m not a toy or a fairy tale creature. I am a guardian. A teacher. Sometimes — very strict. Do you want to learn?”

  Aline nodded. At first hesitantly, then with confidence.

  “Good,” said Shargel. “Then we will have a rule. One word. When you truly need my help — say it. But only when it’s truly important. Not for fun. Not for play.”

  “What word?” Aline whispered.

  Shargel thought for a moment, then answered:

  “‘Heather.’”

  “Heather?”

  “It’s a plant that grows on the edge of worlds. It’s not afraid of either cold or wind. It’s modest, but resilient. You must be like heather.”

  He stood up, shook himself, and headed for the door.

  “Now I’ll go. You’ll have a day to think. And tomorrow — we’ll start with the small things. Like how to hold a cup properly. And how to look at the world — not with your eyes, but with your heart.”

  He stepped out and vanished, as if he had never been there.

  Feline sighed quietly:

  “Here’s your gift, Aline. A familiar is not just a helper. It’s a connected soul. And it won’t leave until you know who you really are.”

  The morning began with the smell of fresh bread and birds chirping outside the window. Aline woke up early — the sun was just beginning to touch the tops of the trees, and the house already smelled of baked dough and raspberries.

  Feline was kneading the dough on a large wooden board, sipping tea and glancing out the window.

  “Good morning, little witch,” she said, not looking up. “Put on your apron. Today you’re my right hand.”

  The day went by: mixing, shaping, baking, picking berries and herbs, watering the small garden, fixing the barn door, and even trying to clean the chimney (the latter accompanied by sneezing, dust, and a lot of laughter).

  Aline was tired, but it was a good kind of tired — as if the day had not been wasted.

  After a day full of tasks, Aline and Feline sat on the porch. The stars were in the sky, a warm cup of tea at their feet, and Sharik curled up, tired but content.

  “You know, Aline,” said Feline, wiping her hands on her apron, “I used to think living alone was a punishment. But it turned out to be a trial that makes you into a person. A real one. My husband left — and didn’t come back, got lost in a bottle. But the house? I’ll build it myself. Brick by brick.”

  Aline listened, holding her breath.

  “The stove won’t fix itself. The floors won’t sweep themselves. And no one but you will bake pies if you want them to be made with soul.”

  She turned to Sharik, who lifted his ear.

  “Even the dog won’t choose the one who trembles with fear. Sharik understood immediately that you have heart. He rarely trusts anyone.”

  Sharik yawned in response and put his head in Aline’s lap. The girl stroked him between the ears.

  “So I’m doing okay?”

  “You’re doing more than okay,” Feline smiled softly. “You’re growing. Not by days — but by words. And every word of yours has soul. That means — you’re strong.”

  Aline woke up in the middle of the night. The room was filled with the silver light of the moon, and somewhere outside the window, there was a faint scraping sound — as if someone were scratching at the shutters.

  She got up, approached the window, opened it slightly… and froze.

  Right in front of her, on the bend of the old fence, stood the unicorn. White, like the morning mist. With a mane shimmering in all the shades of the starry sky. His eyes were the color of dawn.

  “You... who are you?” Aline whispered.

  “I am your familiar,” he replied. His voice sounded not through ears, but directly in her heart. “You’ve awakened the call. Now you must learn to hear.”

  “But I still don’t know anything…”

  “That’s why I came,” he said softly. “A familiar doesn’t choose just like that. I feel the power in you. Deep, sleeping. You don’t yet know who you are. But I will help you learn.”

  “And you will teach me?”

  “Yes. But not like a teacher. Like a guide. Magic isn’t formulas. It’s breathing. The rhythm of the heart. The truth you can’t escape.”

  He stepped closer. His breath smelled of fir and night.

  “You will make mistakes. You will doubt. Sometimes — be afraid. But never forget: you’re not alone. As long as I’m here, I’m a part of you. And you’re a part of the world that’s starting to sing again.”

  Aline wanted to say something, but the unicorn had already disappeared into the air, as if he had been a dream. Only one silver star remained on the windowsill, like a petal.

  She picked it up, squeezed it in her fist, and whispered:

  “I’ll try.”

  Aline woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread and the clinking of wooden spoons. The sun was already shining through the window, casting stripes on the floor. It seemed like the night with the unicorn had been a dream… but in her palm, the silver petal still lay.

  “Rise, my dear,” Feline’s voice called. “The oatmeal is hot.”

  In the kitchen, breakfast was already steaming. Pies cooled on a towel, and in a clay cup, herbal tea was steaming.

  “Today, you’re going to the Volchki. They’re loud people, but kind. It’s noisy there, but fun. His dad is a jester, and his mom is quieter than water. Volchek himself... well, you’ll see. He doesn’t talk much, but his heart is in the right place,” Feline smiled and adjusted her apron. “And you, my dear, are a smart one. Thank you for being with me.”

  Aline silently nodded and hugged her. She wanted to stay, but the road called her forward.

  ?? At Volchek’s House

  She walked along the path, with a basket on her back and the petal still in her pocket. The village greeted her with sunshine and the scent of baked apples. When she reached the house on the edge, Volchek’s parents were already standing by the gate — a gray-haired man with a mustache and a woman in a colorful scarf.

  “Oh, so you’re our new guest!” exclaimed the man. “Come in, don’t be afraid. Our Volchek is in the workshop, but we’ll make you some tea!”

  The woman nodded gently, and opened the gate.

  Aline stepped across the threshold — into a new day, a new acquaintance. Somewhere deep inside, the silver petal in her pocket warmed slightly.