A Boy with a Unicorn

Mary joined Lydia at the window. William was riding out of the gates, messy as always. Neyleia was looking splendid, her horn shining brightly against the gloomy day.
“Off to see another doxy, no doubt,” his mother muttered sourly.
“No doubt.” Mary looked again at the unicorn. Clearly no-one else saw the same thing she did. Either she was mad, or he was much more special than he looked.