(Unicorns, the heraldic supporters of the Scottish Royal Arms, could only be captured it was said, by a young girl.)
In a rich blaze of green a girl sits, the golden veins of her dress tucked between two neat shoes like ballet pumps. The sun has burst in the sky, leaves gleam like blades, and the grass curls, hot and hard as flame. The others have long left the wood, peer out between the deep folds of cloth. No one foretold this scene or dares to stay inside, see innocence and magic collide.