The rest of the herd fell in quickly, and although Anath’s unusual good mood and affectionate actions were distracting, Impa kept her good eye focused on the rest of the Peak mares. They were an odd group, certainly not close-knit or prone to grouping together as any proper herd should, but they also rejected the presence of stallions. If they refused the protection of a male, why should they stay all in one place all the time? Impa had those she was close to, and she was sure other mares grouped together as they discovered who they did or did not get along with. As long as no one was excluded, Impa was content with the way things were, though she would still introduce herself to all those she had not met yet.

It was good to see all the faces of the herd, and Impa made a point of trying to commit them to memory as Anath spoke. She turned her ears back as the General spoke of her, embarrassed in the way a child would be if their mother started praising them in front of the class. “I’d rather earn it,” she muttered as the gold mare finished speaking, and covered her words with a snort. She lifted her head to glance around the group. “There are four kinds of mares who settle here,” she said, speaking clearly. “Mares who excel in thieving, mares who thrive in battle, mares who are good with their words, and mares who don’t feel very strongly about attaching themselves to any of those three categories. Think it over and come to Anath or me when you’ve decided where you feel your niche is, if you haven’t chosen already. Also,” and here she paused, in case there were questions, “We make major decisions by voting around here. You have a voice: use it.” With a nod to the other mares, she turned her head and body to bring the General into view. “Anath, a word,” she said, and gestured to an area away from the other mares.