“Auntie Morgan and I will be right over here if you need us. Okay?” Isoke asks her, dark eyes shining down at her with love and concern. Brienne gives a single, silent nod in response, but she knows that is not enough to placate her dam’s nerves. Thus she reaches upwards to caress her mother’s face. With her pale snout bent sideways, however, she has to tilt her head slightly to reach the velvet skin of her dam’s cheek. Once that’s done, she turns briskly and strides away on long golden legs, not wanting to see the tears that will undoubtedly well up in her mother’s eyes.

Leaves crunch and twigs snap between her hooves as she makes her way further up the ridge to where she knows the meadow is. She’s only been there once before, for her mother to have a quick peek at the rest of the herd before returning to their secluded hideaway on the beach, but her heart is soaring with excitement as she nears the break in the trees. Brienne pauses for a quick, sharp intake of breath through her nostrils and to observe the softly-lit expanse of grass before her; then she plows directly into the glade… to be alone for the first time in six months.

The river is gurgling nearby, and her throat aches to be slated with drink. But she dares not perform the circus trick that is eating and drinking with her deformed face, not while there are others nearby. She can smell them, above the stolid scents of rotting foliage, pollen, and droppings; no doubt they are hiding away from her in the trees, making a mockery of her disability. But Brienne is eternally patient, even at her tender age. Thus she only stands with her nose tucked into her chest as though she’s dozing, but with her sky-blue eyes wide, innocent, and watchful.