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Basic rules, you can't contridict what another person has already written, and you can't change your post after some one has added to the story. Written from her perspective please, and try to be literate.
Name: Lilika Age: 17-19 ish Gender: female Setting: fantasy mediviel europe Plot: she doesn't like the husband her parents picked out for her and is running away from home.
Lilika stepped into the hallway. No servants in sight, that was good. She nervously licked her lips. She wasn't sure that this was a good idea, but she didn't have any other options. She quietly slipped down the hall, listening for any one who might stop her. Despite her misgivings, she managed to get out of the manor without much trouble. "Hardest part is over." She muttered to herself as she leaned against the side of the building. Her exaltation at getting out of the house without being caught left her momentarily weak. Now, for step two.
She slipped into the stable, breathing in the familair smell of horse, sweat, and leather. She loved the stables, and she also knew the stableboy would be out courting tonight, so he wouldn't cause her any trouble. She made her way surely, even though the stables weren't lit. The sound of horses shifting and snorting was familair, and she relaxed farther in this place. She stopped at one of the stalls. "Here boy, it's me." She mumered to it's occupent. She reached into the stall and allowed the stallion to sniff her hand in recognition. "Sorry, no treats today." She said when he started lipping her hand. "Quiet now, please." She told him as she snagged his halter and lead him out of his stall. "Stand." She told him, giving him the camand to stay without her holding on. She swiftly saddled him, appologizing for taking him out so late at night. She led him into the courtyard, comferting her guilty feelings by reminding herself that she wasn't really stealing him, Pappa had given her him when he was born, and they'd never been seperated. The moonlight flooded the courtyard, Lilika had picked the night of the full moon, reasoning that they'd be able to move swifter if they could see where they were going. The moon light sparkled down on her stallion, lighting him up. His pelt was light, although not white. But what really shown was the mother-of-pearl horn that rose from his forehead. He was only half unicorn, his mother had been a ladies hunter, a fine mare, but ordinary.
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