First part can be found here.
Emma walked downstairs into the kitchen. She'd been at Haven for maybe a week now- or had it been two?- it was hard to tell here sometimes. She was surprised how easily she'd settled in. That morning there had been visitors, she had yawned and blinked sleep from her eyes and heard voices downstairs. Peeking out her window she saw several elves leaving- they were dark and dressed in green. As they reached the bridge one of them turned and looked back, and then they were gone. She wondered if they had truly been there at all.
Sunlight was streaming through the window and she could hear the drone of insects already. It was going to be a warm one, she thought.
"Good morning, Emma," said Anya cheerfully as she took a hot loaf out of the oven. Emma's mouth began watering immediately.
"Morning," Emma replied sleepily, and perched on a high stool nearest to Anya. She watched the older woman move about, hustling and bustling, and felt a wave of affection for her. She would miss her especially when it was time to leave. She heard a fluttering and looked up to see a pixie in the open window- she made a beeline for a pie Anya had sitting out and had to be shooed away with a wooden spoon. Emma smiled.
"Who was here?" she asked carefully. Anya looked up at her for a moment with a quizzical expression and said "Oh, no one. Nothing for you to worry about. We get visitors all the time- well, not all the time, but often enough that we don't get too lonely," she said with a smile. "They seem to like the sweets, those ones," she said with a twinkle.
"What's it like here in winter?" Emma asked. "Does it snow?"
"It does snow here once in a while," she said with twinkling eyes. "It's just beautiful, a soft dusting on the ground, flurries coming down lazily, melting as they touch the stream. Getting up in the morning and seeing the tracks left by the rabbits and whatnot."
"I'd like to see that," Emma replied.
Later as she lounged by the gurgling stream she looked back towards the house. The orange cat was lounging on the sill of the kitchen window, sunning itself. It was a warm day with fleecy clouds scudding overhead. She paused to reflect on all she had learned in the last few weeks. The house was a place where she would be safe, as long as she stayed. Eventually though she would have to move on. She thought, not for the first time, about the precious burden she carried. She opened the backpack that never left her person. There it was- still there. She brushed it with her fingers and it felt cool to the touch. And beautiful. It was opalescent and shimmered with color. She knew what a responsibility it was to have this. The goblins had stolen it, and she had stolen it back. And the elves trusted her with it. It was safe here. But when she left...?
She looked at it again and knew that she must take it elsewhere soon. The horn.
A unicorn horn.