Stealing the roan away from the men had not been planned, really. It was simply by chance that while she had left the Peak to wander aimlessly and clear her head, she happened upon the small spat. Mouse had recognized distaste in the face of the other mare, and because of the child had decided to intervene. However, her idleness these past months made her no match for the mud-covered brute, so she was forced to wait for an opportune moment to slip in and usher the pair to safety. They had quickly thanked her before making their way home, and Mouse could not blame them. She had also been eager to escape the humid air and squelching earth of the Lagoon.

After a visit to the pool beneath the waterfall to rinse the grime from her legs, she had some time wandering the crossing, alternately dozing and pondering the path she had taken to this point. The mustang had become lazy, and she felt that aside from Osprey there was no purpose to her life. Even then, the filly would likely leave soon, and then what? Perhaps Mouse would steal all the unhappy mares away from their men and invite them to the Peak. But would they be relieved, or resentful as Styrke’s mare had been? And surely there would be repercussions. Mouse did not expect the Lagoon king to stand by and let that mare get away without a price, and she knew that any other stallions would react similarly.

Still, she thought as she turned away from the lush meadow and headed back home, it would be something more than simply growing fat and old and hiding away. Osprey would agree. The grulla knew her daughter was restless, and had been for most of her young life. She often felt guilty, as though she were clinging to the filly for the sake of familiarity. Soon, she would say. You can go off on an adventure soon. One of these days she would actually follow through.

When she had arrived home again, she took the path less traveled to avoid being greeted by her eager child. It was selfish, but she would not stay hidden long; just long enough to rest before being badgered about why it had taken her so long to return. She found a secluded area where Osprey was unlikely to look, and began to fitfully doze as blurred images coursed through her mind. They were, of course, memories, but not the kind that she had difficulty remembering. These took place after her arrival; they were both good and bad, though even the good left her feeling bittersweet upon awakening.

On this particular day, it was not the sadness of lost friends that drew her from her slumber. Rather, it was a bird of prey circling above her that had cried out and suddenly jolted her awake. Casting a glance at the sky, Mouse noticed that she had slept much longer than intended. She yawned and stretched before making her way to where her daughter often waited.

A sudden gust of wind carried a myriad of new scents to her as she worked around an outcropping that jutted into the path. She abruptly stopped and turned her face to the wind, inhaling deeply again. Impa. Impossible. A mixture of emotions flooded her: shock, anger, happiness, and above all confusion. Where had she gone and why was she returning now, after so much time away? Mouse knew how to obtain the answers to these questions, but was not ready to follow the scent trail. Instead, she ducked around the jutting rock and continued down to meet a very eager Osprey. ”Mom, guess who’s here?”As she already knew, the grulla distractedly greeted the child before sharply dismissing her. Not one to argue with her mother, the painted filly sullenly stalked away to find Irvosat.

Now alone, Mouse closed her eyes and released a resounding call, hoping that the mare it was meant for would hear and understand.