Impa was so used to being stared at by others for her height and girth and yes, sometimes even her spots, that it wouldn’t have phased her if she had even noticed the little mare’s discomfort. Of course, if the stocky mare had leapt at the sight of her or reacted in some other extreme way, she would have noticed. But right now all Impa wanted was some food. With her companion’s small voice fading from her ears, Impa nudged aside the last bit of snow and began to graze. Her left ear turned and cupped the sound of another equine approaching, and she recognized the contemplative, even tread as belonging to that of the Peak’s General. Impa took one step away from the noise under the guise of nosing aside some more snow.

The feeling of Anath’s breath on her shoulder and touch on her flesh irritated the draft mare, and she twitched her skin as if ridding her body of a fly while taking another step away. She continued to graze, and remained almost wholly engrossed in that action until the red and white mare spoke again. “Giselle?” she said, still chewing, and lifted her head. Her ears pushed forward and she swallowed. “Yes, I met her briefly only a couple of days ago.” Not a word was directed at Anath.

“It is good to meet you, by the way. Tautoru. It reminds me a bit of my grandsire’s in its musicality.” She flexed her shaggy neck, unused to speaking about Ikari to others. She wished, in that moment, that her sire was not missing so that she could question him at length about his father. Ikari had not stayed long enough to satiate her curiosity about her family history. “Well,” she said, aware that her abrupt silence might be construed as rude. “You’re welcome to make a home here, Tautoru, or visit when you’re inclined to. You will always be welcome in the Peak. I’m sorry to rush off like this, but there is something I must attend to.” The hefty mare turned in a half circle to her right and walked around the back of Anath.

She wasn’t in the mood to be disparaged publicly a second time.