Mike the Bigfoot ambles through the woods, his broad feet pressing gentle prints into the damp ground. The air is cool and misty, with the faintest shimmer of magic hanging between the trunks. Suddenly, a flash of silvery light catches his eye, and he freezes, heart pounding in his chest.

The Unicorn, poised with an elegant stillness, stares back at Mike with wide, violet eyes. Both creatures seem rooted in place, the world holding its breath around them, as if the trees themselves are listening. Time feels suspended, only the soft rustle of leaves marking its passage. "I thought you were a myth," "I thought you were a myth too,"

Mike[/@ch_1]'s shaggy fur glistens with dew. A gentle breeze carries the scent of wildflowers and moss.] Mike and the Unicorn share a cautious smile, each marveling at the other's presence. Their voices are soft, almost reverent, as they begin to talk, exchanging stories of their lives in the hidden corners of the world. The forest seems to lean in closer, eager to hear their conversation. "I spend my days weaving between moonbeams and wildflowers, hiding from those who wish to prove I exist. What is it like to be you?" "I walk these woods alone, listening to the wind in the pines and the calls of distant birds. Sometimes, I wonder if I am the only one left,"

Mike tells tales of ancient trees and hidden rivers, while the Unicorn describes moonlit dances and the laughter of faeries. They discover they share the same hopes and fears: the longing for understanding, and the joy of finding kinship in an unexpected encounter. Laughter ripples through the clearing, light and free.

The Unicorn lowers its head, touching Mike's hand with its soft muzzle. They promise to meet again, to share more stories beneath the ancient pines. As they part, each feels a lightness in their heart, knowing that magic is real—and sometimes, all it takes to find it is a walk in the woods. "Until next time, friend," "Until next time,"