“And the Dalmatian dog?” “The one with the coach?” Gilbert nodded at the question. “Escorts…for protection. The roads can be treacherous." "I get it. So what should I call you here?" Gilbert joined him on the soft green grass. He didn't feel cold from the night air. This was much better than most dreams. All his senses were alert. He wanted to savor every moment, even if his stomach hurt from laughing as his heart ached to know where his parents had been taken. Dumpster continued. “My birth name is Orson Binks. I was much like you, except my vocation is different from yours.” , Dumpster stopped for a second. His hands went up in the air almost in prayer. "Call?" Gilbert uttered, aware of his mission and unable to share it. However, he wasn't entirely sure what to call it, or what exactly it was. His fingers played with a dandelion flower, which turned red with his gentle touch. “My calling was to find the last unicorn and bring it safely to the places where all the magic meets.” The last unicorn, Gilbert remembered the words of his arrested teacher. Let me show you something important before I leave this place,” Dumpster's words lit up his hands as he stood up. Gilbert turned away from the ambient light. "This won't hurt you." Above their heads two black unicorns appeared in a patch of tall bluegrass. The mother unicorn trembled as two dark-cloaked wizards picked up her little unicorn. Their hats were decorated with tips hanging down on all four sides: symbols of stars and planets adorned them. The black-haired mother neighed as the wizards began to take the young unicorn away. She was too sick to move, other than breathe and moan, but she made a valiant effort. She tried over and over again until she came up with... half a paper... of you and your parents," Orson carefully put the precious token into his pocket. "Then the coat you're wearing is really my father's coat? And I thought I was seeing things in the dumpster from food poisoning or heat stroke. Gilbert touched the fabric of the coat. A wave of sensations coursed through his arm. He pulled his hand back..."No my dear Gilbert. Your father gave this to me while I was in a dumpster in Boston, Massachusetts. Near your house." Orson sat down at Gilbert's level. “I've been looking for you.” “But how? I don't understand." Gilbert's eyes glazed over. “It was his way of letting me know about you, your mother, and your sister Anna. Your parents, Sandra and Roger, are your trusted guardians. They gave up a lot for save you,” Orson stopped once again. “Like many others.” He held his chest as if in pain. Something moved under his hand.