“I need to go away for a bit,” Impa said.

The two blanketed draft horses lingered near the base of the Peak, where it was not quite so cold. A light snow had fallen the day before and Imp was in the process of making random shapes with her hooves as she wandered before her aunt. They had spent the morning making their way leisurely down the mountain face while the hefty, half-blind black mare instructed her young charge in the ways of politics and the power of words. That had been a lesson Imp soaked up like water on sand. She was hungry for Impa’s secrets, and was eager to put what she learned into practice.

“Where will you go?” Imp asked as she stopped her playing and turned her head to look at her aunt. Impa’s face had gone very still, and the lanky red yearling thought she saw pain in the depths of the older mare’s dark brown eye. She did not know that Impa had spoken those very words to Jezibelle only a few days before, or that her aunt was still wrapped up in her own emotional turmoil. Imp was too young to notice it, and Impa was too experienced at hiding it.

“There is something I must do. For myself,” Impa said after a long pause. Her expression smoothed to something more neutral and she reached out to nuzzle Imp’s cheek. “Be kind, Imp. And stay in the Peak.” The black blanketed mare strode away, her hooves scuffing through the shapes Imp had made in the snow.

The rust-red girl watched Impa depart before she resumed her shape-making. Snow was fun!