Iris the unicorn woke up one morning and knew at once that something was wrong. Her maneThe long hair that grows along the neck of horses and unicorns., usually pink and blue and gold, had turned white. Completely white, like a cloud that had forgotten the sky.
“My colours!” cried Iris. She galloped to the pond to look at herself. It was quite true: not a single colour anywhere. Even her hornThe magic point that grows on a unicorn's forehead., which normally shone like a summer morning, was grey and dull.
Iris sat down in the meadowA big field of green grass, full of flowers in springtime. and hung her head very low. A unicorn with no colours cannot possibly exist, she thought. So she went and hid behind the big wild rose bush at the far end of the field, where nobody would see her like this.
But her friends were already looking for her. The first to arrive came scampering along: it was Pablo the squirrel. “There you are! I saved the finest hazelnut of the autumn just for you.” He laid it down in front of her and noticed nothing at all.
Then came Nina the blue tit, who perched on her ear and sang the song Iris liked best, the one with three little whistles at the end. Then Big-Hoof the pony, who said not one word and simply rested his head against hers, because sometimes that is exactly the right thing to do.
Iris slowly lifted her eyes. On her maneThe long hair that grows along the neck of horses and unicorns., where Pablo had set down his hazelnut, there was a golden streak. Where Nina had sung, a blue one. And where Big-Hoof had rested his head, a great pink one.
“You gave me my colours back!” whispered Iris. “No,” said Nina, tilting her little head. “They were there all along. They were only waiting for someone to come and look at you.”
Ever since that day, when Iris feels a little grey, she does not go and hide behind the bush any more. She goes to find her friends. Colours are never really lost: they come back the moment someone takes the time to look at you.
The end, sweet dreams.
