And so I continue on down the way, down through the cover of the swaying forest. But even here I can’t stop dancing to the tune of the calliope that is ringing out from far off in the distance, from the miller’s mill. The mill never stops turning, never stops spinning and neither does the playing of calliope. The strange, mechanical organ-like instrument, powered by the churning of the structure. It’s a strange sound, it sounds happy. But it’s a fake happiness, a feigned smile that rings out from ear to ear. But that doesn't matter, because even here in the shelter of the forest I can’t stop my jig. Not as long as Misses Flower is on my back dancing with me, not as long as Mr. Blue-bird is on my back chirping along to the sound of the music. There is always someone watching, always someone just waiting for a chance to tell the miller, just waiting for a chance to tell him that someone wasn’t beautiful. That someone wasn’t as beautiful as they should be. It’s exhausting.

 

  Ironically enough, that’s why we’re going to see the miller. Because we’re exhausted. You can only be beautiful for so long, that’s the secret. Everyone knows it, but nobody is going to talk about it because talking about it would be unsightly. No. Smile. Dance. Everything is great! Everything is perfect! A ray of sparkles shoots out from my horn. There’s no reason for it. It just looks nice.

 

  Soon enough, the small wood comes to an end, but the path still goes on past a perfect field of golden wheat. Past and over the small bridge and past the small crook that flows beneath it; the rainbow water heading to and from the mill before vanishing off into the crevices of the dungeon-wall.

 

“Why, is that the mill?” asks Misses Buttercup with a gasp.

 

“Yes! That is the mill, dear Misses Buttercup!” says Mr. Blue-bird with a chirp as I bob in place going up and down.

 

“Why, it’s beautiful!” she says, swaying from side to side joyfully.

 

  “Yes! Yes! It is!” says Mr. Blue-bird. Something sounds strange in his voice, some emotion buried beneath the surface begging to be heard. But I let it slide. His words sounded just charming enough that I can forgive it this once. After all, not doing so wouldn’t be beautiful! As we stare at the mill, which is churning away in all of its splendor behind the fields of shimmering rye, we all feel something. Even if they don’t say it, I know they feel it too. Something foreboding, a heavy shadow, but we don’t talk about it either. Instead, I begin to skip and dance my way forward. No questions, friend. Don’t ask questions. Just keep smiling. Keep dancing. You hear that music too? Isn’t it lovely?! It never stops! It never stops!

 

The water beneath the bridge churns and rolls beneath us as the steady trickle of the stream flows onward, unperturbed by the happenings of the world above it. A tiny voice calls out from beneath us as I dance across.

 

“Mr. Unicorn! Mr. Unicorn!” says the voice.

 

“Oh?” I say and look down over the railing and laugh as I see the Jelly-jelly.

 

  “Hello Jelly-jelly! How are you on this dazzling day?” I ask the strange, blobbish creature below that is floating on the surface of the rainbow water. Its many tendrils floating lazily around the surface around it.

 

“Hello, Jelly-jelly!” says Misses Buttercup.

 

“Hello there!” says Mr. Blue-bird.

 

“Hello, Misses Buttercup! Hello, Mr. Blue-bird! Are you going to see the miller today?” asks Jelly-jelly.

 

I respond. “Why yes! Yes we are Jelly-jelly! Would you like to accompany us?”

 

“Please!” says Jelly-jelly. “Ah, Mr. Unicorn, would you help me up please?” it asks.

 

  “Of course, Jelly-jelly!” I say. Pointing my horn down at the water I shoot out a thin rainbow that the slimy creature then climbs up onto, crawling up and out of the water and onto my back with the rest of them.

 

“Hello, everyone!” Says Jelly-jelly.

 

“Welcome on-board, Jelly-jelly!” says Misses Buttercup.

 

“Welcome!” Says Mr. Blue-bird.

 

  Now with all three of them on my back, I continue over the bridge towards the grand mill. It is an exquisitely built structure, just as beautiful as all the rest of the dungeon! Simply charming! Prancing forward towards the door I finish my dance with a flourish. All of my companions clap and cheer and I take a bow before rising up and knocking on the door with my horn three times. The music is loud, but not louder than anywhere else on this floor. But it’s so delightful to listen to, forever!

 

“Yeeeeees?” asks a coy, high-strung man’s voice from behind the door.

 

“Why, Mr. Miller! It’s me, Mr. Unicorn! I’ve brought Misses Buttercup, Mr. Blue-bird and Jelly-jelly with me on this lovely day to see you!” I proclaim proudly.

 

  “Yeeeeeeees,” says the high-pitched voice from behind the door which then creaks open slowly. Music seeps out from the inside, from the darkness inside the mill where nothing can be seen. Not even the silhouette of the miller who should be standing right there before us. “Please, come iiiiiin,” says the voice. I step forward, but a pale, bony hand shoots out and blocks me from entering, the thin fingers pressing against my chest and digging in a little with their long nails. “Not yooou Mr. Unicorn. It wouldn’t be beautiful, for yooooooou,” it coos.

 

“Oh! Silly me! Of course, Mr. Miller,” I laugh. Knowing what to do, I bend down forward and let everyone get off of me.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Unicorn!” says Misses Buttercup and plants a kiss on my cheek, before vanishing inside, red and flustered.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Unicorn,” says Mr. Blue-bird and skips inside the dark room to be with his family.

 

“Thanks, Mr. Unicorn!” Says Jelly-jelly before blobbing his way inside too.

 

  The door closes leaving me standing outside on my own, still just bobbing up and down to the sound of the music that was playing all of this time. Even if the miller was here at the door. Hmm. Whistling an off-tune melody, I turn around and dance back towards the bridge, feeling rather lonely again. Not listening to the screams from behind me. All I hear is music. All I hear is music. I dance back onto the bridge and look down into the water. Look down at the viscera and red that seeps out of the mill before it dilutes in with the rest of the rainbow water. A single blue feather floats by, but then sinks beneath the surface as well and vanishes into the depths, so that everything can be beautiful again.

 

Everything but that reflection I see in the water. That sad face. I smile, but it still looks sad. Why? That’s not beautiful. That’s not -

 

I look at the fresh menu that has appeared, somewhat relieved that it has finally shown up in some odd way. Finally I feel relieved that the hero has come.

 

I wish I wouldn’t.