The slight rustling in the bushes from which she herself had come caused her to turn her head quickly and pin her ears. Upon seeing the roaned form of Skylar, she relaxed her body and glanced briefly down at her daughter, who continued to greedily suckle for the moment. The other girl’s soft words reached her, and she looked cautiously on, wondering if Styrke were with his daughter. Yet when she flared her nostrils, she caught only the residual scent of him that Skylar held. Finally smiling, she spoke to Skylar in a similar soft tone. ”Thank you, I think it suits her.”

The painted grullo filly had finished her first meal, and made her slow way on slightly shaky legs around Mouse’s body, gazing at this unknown thing. A small squeak escaped her as she continued walking toward Skylar, stretching out her soft whiskery nose in as much of a greeting as she knew how to give. For the time being, she did not know that she stood before her half-sister, but she was too young to understand such things. One day, Mouse would be sure that the two knew each other, hopefully well.

Before she could say anything more to Skylar, a new sound arose, and Mouse tensed, glaring with pinned ears in the direction of the rustling. A large black mare emerged, but it was not Impa. This female lacked the sprinkling of white that her friend bore, and upon closer examination was shorter. The grulla’s ears immediately pinned, for though she was generally friendly to strangers, she now had Osprey to worry about. As the new arrival spoke, Mouse darted over to place herself between the fillies and the larger mare. Though she was tiny, and had forgotten her own potential for ferocity, she would not let this stranger (to her) threaten any child.

Waiting until the mare, now known as Skraeling, was finished, Mouse finally spoke up. “Skraeling. I am Mouse. I don’t recall seeing you here before.” She inhaled deeply, straining to keep her nerves calm. Though she knew Skylar, and Osprey was her daughter, the addition of a larger mare that she perceived as a threat was almost too much for Mouse to handle. She found herself wishing Impa were here, but she realized that sooner or later she would need to learn again how to stand up for herself. “For starters, my filly and I are fine. Secondly, no matter what scents a mare may carry, she is always welcome here. You would do well to remember it.” The short mare shifted into a more defensive stance of her own, lifting her head with her ears still slanted backwards, waiting for the mare’s response, and realizing that in comparison to the Friesian, she was not in the least impressive.