Valencia’s head was filled with busy thoughts as she shook the excess water from her golden pelt on the shore of the Crossing, reliving the visit she had just returned from. She took her time returning to the Peak for the first time as a Vulcan mare, meandering slowly through the Meadow, before reaching the scent boundaries that marked Amazonian territory around the base of the mountain.

The day was bright and clear, but there was a stiff, cold wind that rustled the browning leaves on the trees and shrubbery that the mountain nested in. It sent a slight chill down her damp spine, but she relished the familiar bite of cold’s sharp teeth.

Valencia wound her way lazily through the well-worn path that led to the easiest place to access the mountain’s many rocky paths; in her wake she left a thin trail of water that dripped like glittering, molten crystals from her sodden and tangled, pale caramel hair. Despite being unable to tame her wild mane, the swim had at least cleaned some of the grass stains and patches of mud from her fur.

The foliage surrounding her began to thin, which told Valencia that she was nearing the mountain itself, when she heard a small noise nearby. Pausing, her ears quivering intently atop her head, she strained her hearing to identify the sound: hoof beats. Curiosity alerted, she wandered forwards in search of the culprit. A few minutes later her search was rewarded.

Away from the crowded barrier of foliage, Valencia could see a tall, thickly-built mare. She had primitive stripes on her legs, and charcoal-coloured hair. Her posture, emphasised by her size, was proud and bold; it did not bespeak a horse who had suffered as this stranger had. Nobody would ever guess, looking at her.

Intrigued, and assuming that her duties as a Vulcan included greeting potential comrades, Valencia approached the mare, stopping a few paces away from her. Valencia’s bright, intelligent brown eyes roamed hungrily but quickly over the stranger, drinking in every detail of her appearance and body language in an instant; she returned to holding the mare’s gaze unwaveringly, as was her habit, before speaking.

“I am Valencia,” she said simply, bluntly, lacking in an ordinary salutation as usual. “Welcome to the Peak.”

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