> life is good, anonymous
> it truly is
> you lift one sleepy eye to the dysfunctional alarm clock on your bedside table--the thing had been going off since five minutes ago, most likely
> sooner or later you were going to sleep through it entirely
> as pleasant an idea as that was, you were well aware that your business depended on the persuasively charismatic mug of its owner
> you drag yourself out of bed and execute your morning amenities, throwing on your coat at last as you stumble out of your cabin and down to the valley below 

"How's it going?" 

> the lofty unicorn mare stopped in her tracks, regarding you with wide eyes and the telling supercilious demeanor you'd come to expect from big girls like her
> "Have I gotten the right address? It is rather confusing to navigate to this retreat, I must say."

> this was a ruse, as it always was
> your resort was just off of a major trade route, along which regular equestrian traffic shuffled from place to place almost daily
> you could basically see the road from the beveled shop window of your reception building
> also a cabin
> most unicorns' first visit went like this one here, actually
> they were much too proud to admit that your resort's base appeal had ever gotten their attention in the first place
> 'A good friend of mine recommended I at least see what all the fuss was about'
> 'I'd happened upon this place while en route to Sassafras City, actually, and...'
> 'Actually, I had been under the impression that this was a day spa'
> all of it was bullshit
> a soft nicker struck your thoughts out of orbit and brought your eyes back down on the unicorn, who rocked in place impatiently 

"Yep, you've got the right place. How long's your stay gonna be?"
> the prissy mare's formalities, which also characterized much of her race, always amused you
> you'd never return it, which often infuriated them
> your casual attire and nonchalance often inspired an air of contention between you and your customers at first
> it never lasted for more than a few minutes, though
> you knew what they wanted, and they knew you knew
> the mare dusted the floor with her brilliant silver tail and lowered her voice, as if worried the forest itself would contrive to announce her deeds to the world

> "...Three years."
> her countenance a demure blush, the mare snorted and pawed at the scuffed cherry wood that ran the length of your cabin's bottom 
> turning to a massive board behind you, you tapped an empty spot under the '3+ years' column and cleared your throat

> "You could at least ask properly, knave. I am called Vermillion."
> though you couldn't see it, the snooty mare had long since upturned her nose at your irreverence 

"Right, I remember. Put your stuff on the counter and follow me out back." 
> you finished jotting down the mare's name and twirled the stick of chalk between your fingers haphazardly as you made your way outside
> your newest customer was quick to follow, shedding her bedazzled rich-girl ensemble before nervously falling in step behind you
> it wasn't a long walk, really--where exactly she went across the three-hundred-acre property was ultimately up to her
> tracing the familiar path down to the great valley below, you led the mare all seventy-two steps down the mountainside at a gentle pace which you knew her pedicured hooves could handle
> the resort was massive--that much was an understatement 
> smack dab in the middle of the Enclave's municipal jurisdiction lay your quaint establishment, which was surrounded by a thick glade of multi-ethnic redwoods and pines 
> aside from the primary path of travel that lay to the north you were practically stepping into the wilderness 
> you knew your clientelle well, though--it was only because of this unique setting that you had seen any measure of success at all
> ferns and bespeckled toadstools nipped at your heels as you leapt a fallen spruce; your charge scrambled with girlish awkwardness over the thing to your fading footsteps
> she probably could have made it to the valley from here, but new arrivals never strayed far from you on their first day

> "Is it far? Shall we get there soon?" 
> you tucked your hands into your pockets and offered her a shrug from the front, which she likely enjoyed 

"We're almost there." 
> patience was a virtue; hadn't anyone taught these prissy mares that?
> as the foggy branches cleared and the dirt path below widened to a considerable degree you were met with a breathtaking view of the valley proper
> while swaths of towering redwoods still dotted the border of the property, intermittently spaced by smaller spruces and rocky bastions, the level ground revealed much of the resort's natural beauty without distraction
> there were glittering lakes painted against the earth's earthen canvas where unicorns danced and shook with spasmodic elation, freed from their societal and hierarchical bonds
> delicately flowered paths wove patterns between patches of clovers, marigolds, lilacs and oxeyes, which bathed several elegant unicorn mares basking in the morning sun's refreshing haze
> gentle rolling hills broke the horizon, upon which gazebos of walnut and mahogany sprouted; within could be seen some sort of tea party, executed by a company of alabaster equines chittering daintily amongst themselves
> a thick mist encircled the steep plateau to the south that straddled the valley, which could be seen at all hours of the day; straggling beams of daylight broke unevenly through the dense cloudcover above
> the view was breathtaking, even from below sea level, and you didn't miss how vermillion gasped in reserved awe behind you
> finally having finished your descent, you gestured to the spectacle in front of you, urging on the mare taken aback

"She's all yours, Vermillion, as soon as you take one of these."
> she spared you naught but a glance as you fished something from the inside of your coat
> it was a mask, shaped to an equestrian muzzle and dotted with sparkling gemstones that only barely exposed the black beneath
> there was only one real rule here, which was only implemented due to overwhelming request from your high-society patrons:
> everyone wears a mask
> identity was everything in their society--or so you'd heard
> didn't make any difference to you whether or not they showed their faces to you or anyone else, but the mares didn't take kindly to acting out their external identities in paradise
> thus the masks
> vermillion shot you a questioning look at first but, upon realizing that she had no way of slipping the thing on herself she lowered her head begrudgingly
> you slipped the mask over her flushed snout, fitting it snugly to her face and adjusting it minutely until it looked to be secured 

"Enjoy." 

> without so much as a thanks vermillion shot off like a rocket; it was as though someone had cut loose the strings of a puppet who'd been capable of its own thoughts and actions the whole time
> frantic whinnies and snorts broke through the valley's tranquil midsummer air as the mare leapt into the air, kicking out her hind legs behind her and bounding down past a babbling stream and the few unicorns that had stopped beside it for a drink
> it was hard to tell from where you stood, but you were certain they would be welcoming her into the folds of their carefree leisure sometime soon
> as your work had finished, you whistled a cozy tone and began the long trek back up to the resort cabin to count out the next customer's advance payment

> evergreen park was, at its core, a place where unicorns could cast off the shackles of high-society and succumb to what nature had always intended for them
> laughter
> tea parties
> barreling at full-speed through eager meadows and verdant pastures 
> there were no obligations here
> no worries
> nothing to be afraid of or spare concern 
> evergreen park was probably the best place in the kingdom for a unicorn to simply be herself
> and it was your job to make sure of that