“But That Was Long Ago,” The Girl Said. “Now I Am Two—myself, And This Other That You Call ‘my

“But that was long ago,” the girl said. “Now I am two—myself, and this other that you call ‘my lady.’ For she is here as truly as I am now, though once she was only a veil over me. She walks in the castle, she sleeps, she dresses herself, she takes her meals, and she thinks her own thoughts. If she has no power to heal, or to quiet, still she has another magic. Men speak to her, saying ‘Lady Amalthea,’ and she answers them, or she does not answer. The king is always watching her out of his pale eyes, wondering who she is, and the king’s son wounds himself with loving her and wonders who she is. And every day she searches the sea and the sky, the castle and the courtyard, the keep and the king’s face, for something she cannot remember. What is it, what is it that she is seeking in this strange place? She knew a moment ago, but she has forgotten.”

— Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn