Greta's jaw drops, both in dismay and indignation at the thought of Darrow taking a unicorn and then turning into a human being. To be fair, she hasn't given much thought to unicorns lately - in no small part because it's been rather a long time since she could convince herself that if she went into the Woods and was quiet and lucky, she just might see one. But now there's one standing before her, somehow managing to make shaking herself off look graceful, and it's impossible not to conclude that what Darrow has done to her is just... appalling. In the stories she'd heard, the worst thing anyone might do to a unicorn was kill it, or drive it away forever. Corrupting one, making it anything other than what it was... that wasn't even an option. No one's imagination stretched that far.

"I'm so sorry," Greta says, instinctively lifting a hand, then catching herself and drawing it back. It's enough to meet a unicorn; she has absolutely no business presuming to touch her. She twists her hands together down by her skirts, where they won't cause any trouble.

"Er, yes." She shrugs bashfully; she can't take any real credit for her birthplace. "Some of them have made it here, too: Jack and the Beanstalk, Rapunzel, Cinderella. I haven't come across my own, though." It's probably for the best. She'd devour the whole thing if she had it in her hands, and she knows she shouldn't.