Impa was not perturbed by the young mare’s wrinkled nostrils, at least not once her ears came forward and the hostility faded from her eyes. The black blanketed mare chose to take it as a sign that whatever darkened the young mare’s mood was not directly related to her. The girl’s deflection of Impa’s question, however polite, discouraged her from pursuing that line of inquiry. Such had been Impa’s response when well-intentioned horses she didn’t want to talk to had asked about her well-being.

Initially, Impa was disappointed in the spotted mare’s response. She did not know who had taken over the Arch after Het Vuur, nor did she care. There was nothing in that bleak and bitter territory that would ever convince her it was a good home for a herd. All of her memories of it were full of perpetual darkness and the stinging of snow as the wind whipped up blizzards of the white stuff. The description of the girl’s father, however, was unmistakable. There were not many mute horses on the Islands, and for the young mare to wear a blanket as bold as the one that graced her own hindquarters left only one real reasonable conclusion for Impa to reach. There was definitely draft lineage in the girl’s blood, and she fancied she could see some family resemblance in the girl’s long face now that she was looking for it.

“I’ve a buckskin brother, one whose name I don’t know,” she said with a wide smile. “Was he scarred?” It was hard to ask the question, to come close to admitting aloud that her father had been abusive, and her good eye slid away from her companion. Kisei had never hurt her, not beyond a nip of reprimand when she deserved it, and he’d never been verbally abrasive. Still, sometimes she wondered how he could treat her mute brother with such disdain and ignore her own defect.

Sometimes she used that to justify his abandoning of her, something she had never gotten an answer for.

Impa exhaled slowly and reined her thoughts away from it all. In the seasons she’d been alone, she had come no closer to an answer. It was time, she decided (again), to let it go for good. She turned her focus back to the fact that her brother’s daughter stood before her. She liked the idea that he had begun a family. Maybe he’d even found love. Her voice warmed as she continued, “Last time I saw him he was in the Lagoon. It’s— it’s very good to meet you. I’m Impa.”