The water is cold, against this woman's body, cold as it never was to me before

The water is cold, against this woman's body, cold as it never was to me before. I can't see my reflection in this water, for it is not still, as the pool in my forest was; it is wild and untamed, foaming and frothing against the cliffs and the castle and the shore, stirred into a tempest by the wrath of the Red Bull, who has not forgotten that one unicorn got away from him. He smell the unicorn - he can smell me. But he can not find me, for the unicorn's shape is no longer mine. I am safe, in this woman's body, safe as I can not be in the unicorn's, but I do not feel safe.

I stand above those cliffs, feeling the spray of the water against my skin, and try to remember, but it is all vague. I am forgetting: soon I will not even remember that I have forgotten something at all. It has not been long since the magician changed me, but will be longer yet until I can rediscover my true form, and already the memories leave me. I feel them, as they escape my mind; gentle fingers, a whispered song carried upon the wind, the soft tears of the heavens, brushing across my cheek with pity and compassion, fleeing into the world. In this body, they tell me I am safe, from the rage of the Bull, but I am losing everything. I am no more safe in this body than I was when facing the Red Bull.

This body dies around me, with each breath, and my memory leaves me: I fear I will die in this body, with the knowledge of my true form gone. I am captive to the ephemeral nature that plagues humanity in this body; had they left me a unicorn, at least I would not have the knowledge of mortality.