“That does not sound like my son.” The stallion’s voice had been deep. Grave. Everything about the immense bay stallion, significantly older than her father but somehow still magnificent, had seemed grave when she had encountered him on the edge of the Peak’s territory. After deducing who he was (because really, how many full-blooded shires lived on the islands, outside of her family?) Impazienza had settled into conversation with her grandsire. She had told him everything: Kisei’s betrayal, his abuse toward his son, his unexpected disappearance. Ikari’s expression had grown stonier with every word. “He wanted, so much, to make a name for himself here. One that did not fall in my shadow.”

And now her grandsire was gone. Kisei, Mazurka, Ikari— her family was disintegrating. She had two full siblings, one at least who still lived though she did not even know his name. And there was her half sibling, Dynalia, allegedly still at home. It was time Impa discovered what had happened while she was away from the Forest, and to see how she could put things to rights. The heavy black mare plodded down the mountain face, her gait even and steady. She had spent the night near the height of the Peak, taking advantage of the cool air there as spring warmed the land below. Ikari had left days ago, before winter had fully fled the land. And with his absence, she felt more keenly the emptiness of the Vulcan land. It seemed as if no one was left. Perhaps they had all withered and died while she rested in solitude away from the casual eye.

Still shedding her winter coat, Impa looked rough and unkempt as she stepped onto level ground at the base of the Peak. Her black coat was patchy and uneven, though her feathers were still thick and full above her hooves. And she itched. Oh, sky above, how she itched. It amazed her how such weighty subjects could be sloughed from her shoulders like rainwater when she was shedding her winter coat: relieving the itch took precedence over everything else.

So it was that Impa was braced up against a sturdy tree and rubbing the left side of her taut barrel across the old bark when the newcomer came into view. She was blue, and tall, and walked with a confidence felt affected her own steps these days. It was good to see someone after having spent so much time alone and lost in her own thoughts. The blanketed black mare allowed herself one final delicious itch before she stepped away from the tree, loose black hair fluttering away from her body, and made her way toward the blue roan. Her personal errands could wait for just a bit longer.

“Heyla,” she greeted the tall mare with a whicker, ears pushed forward and chin tucked in just a bit to accentuate the muscles of her thick neck. Her steps were higher than usual. She wished she didn’t look so ragged. ”You new around here, or have I been up in the clouds just a little too long?” she asked with a lopsided smile and a meaningful glance toward the invisible peak of the mountain behind her.