He glanced up at it for only a second. "…Does anyone still live there?"
He shook his head. "I have not been in some time. Perhaps some day you can come to my world. But I must clarify," he said quickly, "There are not horned horses on my world. We do not have many creatures on my world. None are natural, but there are those that may have imported some. It is an extreme rarity. But I remember which planets have those creatures. I will find their names for you, once I return home. I am not too busy now, though. If you want to return and talk again. Perhaps you will have more questions next time, or I will have more answers. But perhaps I can provide something else for you at least…"
He paused, and reached into the folds of his robes, digging around for a moment before he produced a weathered bag. This one still seemed full of something—crystals, likely, but he was very cautious not to reveal its contents. Or, at least, not all of them.
After fishing around, he pulled out a thin, spiraled horn. He rolled it around in his fingertips for a minute; it was only four or five inches in length. The tip was no longer pointed; it had smoothed and had a rounded edge. The bottom was a bit jagged, as though it snapped.
It was clear, but seemed to hold some clouds of color inside of it; when the moonlight caught it, specs inside of it seemed to glisten.
"This is not the best specimen. But then again, it is very old."
He held it in his open palm, and then held it out for her. "If you would like it, it is yours."
Torvil
