What do you call a pig that practices karate?

A creature so rare, with a horn like a crown, it prances with flair. In dreams, it's found, with grace and charm, a horse-like wonder, causing no harm.

I turn soft moss into a sinking trap, where water and land share a quiet map. I swallow your boots if you dare to stray, and hide where the frogs and the cattails play.

A raindrop falls, a circle grows, across the water’s face it goes. Though I am neither fish nor wave, what am I that outwardly strays?

A silly face, Way up high, Hard to crack, But sweet inside.