The grulla woman and her painted daughter had all but melted into the background for quite some time. After a short excursion outside the safety of the Peak, Mouse had come back and was ready to move on with her new life. However, those she recognized seemed to have left. Impa, Anath, the pale one blotched with blue; she hadn’t seen any of them. Anxiety had flickered in her chest, but she told herself that Osprey must still be there, and the weanling had eventually appeared, her interest piqued by the calls of her mother. Then, just as the grullas had gotten a glimpse of the other slate-toned mare, her red daughter, and a gold and white female, a stranger had come and Mouse had whisked her daughter into hiding in order to protect her.

Today, they peeked from the hidden ledge where they had been sheltering, and saw a landscape that was just as deserted as when they had tucked themselves away. The only difference was that it was now cold and snowy, with a bitter wind that cut across them and chilled them to the bone. The filly was the first to descend, prancing through snow up to her knees down to a more level area. The small grulla mare followed more slowly, testing the air for familiar scents and keeping a sharp eye on her willful daughter. It seemed that Impa, Anath, and several others’ scents were as faded as ever. She could not be sure, but she thought perhaps the red filly remained, though her mother’s presence was questionable. Had the stranger taken the silvery mare? The thought sickened her, but as she had no inkling of what to do about it she decided upon searching for the others.

Osprey ran ahead of her, confident in her ability to balance even in the snow; growing up here on the towering peak had made her so, for with the lack of company she had little else to do but run. It made her mother nervous, of course, but Mouse knew that the filly had enough sense to stay away from unstable areas.

The two of them continued to the lower area where the herd of women had often gathered previously, but they met no one on the way. By the time they arrived, the solid grulla was becoming worried, mostly about the leader of the peak and her friend, Impazienza. The blanketed mare was quite large and not easily missed, so Mouse hoped that she was off on business somewhere; perhaps she was retrieving the silver mare from wherever she had gone. The alternative – that the draft had left or gone missing – was too difficult for her to think about right now.

Without wasting any more time, Mouse let out a loud whinny, followed by a quieter one from her daughter. She hoped their sounds would not be lost in the wind that swept across the barren landscape. She hoped that they were not alone.