It was a constant struggle to unravel the other mare’s words, but Imp made a conscious effort to do so. Satitba’s speech was fascinating, and by the time the pale mare finished speaking about where she’d come from, Imp was still wrapped up in how pleasant her voice was to listen to. “I’ve never met my father, either,” she said with a slow blink. “Not that I care. What use are stallions, anyway? We’ve all done fine here without them.” She tossed her head, chin high and disdain in her eyes for the stallions she’d never met, but there was still that urge that made her belly flutter, that desire to go out and meet men and see what they were really all about. She was certain there was some secret that Jezibelle and Impa were keeping from her, and Imp was determined to uncover it.

When Satitba spoke of Josh, Imp’s ears pushed forward and she leaned toward the other mare a bit. The rust-red girl couldn’t remember the name of the stallion she’d encountered in the Falls, or whether or not he’d even given it to her, but she did recall how odd he was, dropping pet-names and bowing like it was the most common thing in the world. It was a relief to hear that not all stallions were like that: Imp had no interest in getting to know men if they were all like that.

“Not as much as I’d like, but the one time I did venture out I met that same stallion!” She tucked in her chin and shook her muzzle from side to side as she suppressed her own laughter— a sound less kind than Satitba’s had been. “What a weirdo.” Imp shook out her mane and looked over her shoulder. The stallion had almost been as weird as Jezibelle was on a day-to-day basis, and the thought of the somber mare filled Imp with something akin to glee. It had been several days since she’d heckled her dam, and the chestnut girl wondered with Impa and Jezibelle could possibly have to talk about that was too important for her to overhear.

She looked back at Satitba. “Anyway, I’m gonna go see what everyone else is up to. The herd’s probably over this way, if you wanna come with,” Imp said as she moved away from the stand of pine trees and toward the flat-face where the herd tended to congregate the most. She didn’t look back to see if the perlino chose to follow her, certain that the mare would do whatever she liked.