She was a Leo, he (although he despised astrology) was a Unicorn. The combination is notoriously difficult. They did everything they could to avoid it, and when that was no longer possible, they took every precaution. She sheathed her claws. He couldn’t hide his horn.
Difficult, but more fruitful than they could have imagined. Over the course of many years, they learned to fight bloodlessly. He vividly remembered the moment when he was first able to hear the terror of her roar without galloping away. After that, their fights became bearable, even exhilarating. They learned to live with two paws (hoofs) in each other’s world, and to cook separately. Having finished his grass salad (he was always done first), he would spend the rest of the meal looking at her, sharing her pleasure as she gnawed on a bleeding, almost-raw slab of mutton or beef.
In the evening they would lie down together as peaceably as in Isaiah’s garden.