With both Jezibelle and Nyx’s words weighing on her mind, Impa went to find the source and see what information she could coax from a mute stallion. Her brother had not been difficult to locate, but communication with him had been difficult if not impossible. He wore an expression of apparently permanent irritation, his ears lowering as soon as he saw her and remaining flat as she spoke while he pawed restlessly at the earth. Unable to win even a small expression of affection or joy at her visit, Impa gave up and asked the one question she’d never thought would cross her lips. Kisei’s name was the only thing that changed his demeanor at all, and Impa watched in horror as her brother’s head lifted, ears still buried in his mane, his flat teeth bared at her in a semblance of a smile. His left forehoof hovered above the earth for a moment before he struck the earth with more force than he had used previously, and there the two siblings stood for a long moment before Impa fled.

It meant nothing, he didn’t actually confirm it, she told herself as she raced to the ocean. Jezibelle. I’ve got to find Jezibelle. If she had been able to form any sort of coherent thought during her swim, perhaps she would have rushed to Tinuvel to confront her blanketed sister, but by the time Impa’s hooves touched sand she found herself on the Crossing and was helpless to change her direction as instinct pulled her home.

Home. The Peak. A place of sanctuary, a haven for mares of all backgrounds. Even her? She closed her eyes and snorted with a toss of her head, and forced her mind to think of nothing as she ascended the mountainside at a run. Despite the cold she felt hot, and sweat patched her broad black back by the time she reached one of the flatter sides of the mountain. She was out of breath from her internal panic combined with the increase in elevation, and because she hadn’t stopped running since she left Luthien.

She tried to slow her breathing as she looked around for Mouse, and remembered belatedly that she’d left Imp at the base of the mountain. “Stupid!” she cursed, and as she turned to look on her blindside, her left side, Impa saw a tall, pale mare with an even paler splash on her hindquarters making her way up the mountain.

Stars be damned, she thought, and the profanity hung in her mind even as her features smoothed and she strode toward the newcomer on autopilot. She was Impa, a mare of the Peak, and she would welcome any and every mare who came walking through her home. Still, she waited until she was close to the other mare before she said anything, and was glad that her breathing had slowed.

“Welcome,” she wheezed, and coughed. “Sorry. Welcome to the Peak.” Her right eye lingered on the girl’s blanket. “Do I know you?” Of course she did not. Impa would have remembered someone with markings like her own.