“It’s nice to see you too. I’m Inka, if I failed to mention before,” the Friesian mare replied as her mind travelled back to her meeting in the meadow with Macabre. Both mares had been having off-days, she recalled, with Macabre being somewhat distraught and Inka being somewhat frazzled over the disappearance of her father. She recalled also that Macabre had told her that she was homeless, despite having been won in a challenge by a stallion. That had unsettled Inka, and though shortly after they had parted ways, she had hoped perhaps that mentioning she lived in the peak might have been enough to plant a seed of hope in Macabre’s mind – that, if she could manage to get away from her useless stallion, Macabre might come to the renowned mountaintop sanctuary for mares.

Though the little chestnut mare still did not seem one hundred percent comfortable standing before them, she certainly seemed more stable than she had before. The corners of Inka’s mouth crinkling in a soft smile, her heart swelled with glee at the fact that Macabre had indeed found her way here eventually. Her mind prickled with curiosity over what had happened with Macabre’s stallion, but she made a mental note to ask the mare later, figuring she would prefer not to answer such a personal question in front of two complete strangers.

“And this is Jetta,” Inka added after a long pause, her dark eyes turning downward toward the bundle of fur pressing itself against her side. “Jetta, don’t be shy. These ladies are trustworthy, I promise.” With a chuckle, she glanced up at Macabre, then Marlena, then back again. “This is her first outing. You two have the privilege of being the first horses she’s ever met, except for me of course.”

At her side, Jetta had finally put an inch or two of space between them. As if she had decided Marlena was too tall and intimidating to concentrate on for the time being, her bright eyes were still focused entirely on the shorter form of Macabre. One ear had flicked backward at her mother’s words, but otherwise the girl gave no indication she had heard her; she took one step closer to the chestnut mare, then another, before slowly stretching her brown neck as far as it could reach, and delicately touching the soft skin of Macabre’s shoulder with her nose. “I like your color,” she murmured in a delicate whisper, searching the mare’s eyes momentarily before tearing her gaze away in embarrassment.