Impazienza had yet to find a horse who was not willing to speak when given a captive audience. The filly had much more to express than just surface level emotions, just as the Prime Minister had supposed. She called herself a daughter of the Peak, but the strength that was usually innate in such a phrase did not show in the girl’s voice. The black mare maintained her neutral, interested expression —she had not risen to primary diplomat for nothing— and considered each piece of information as the girl revealed it.
She knew nothing of the conflict the black yearling spoke of, something that stoked her irritation at herself but also something she set aside to consider on her own time as the girl’s story suddenly shifted to reveal a bigger, more personal issue. It was not easy to follow given how little of it the draft mare had witnessed firsthand, but she did her best to retain the important bits, and to attempt to identify which of those bits were most important to her young companion.
So. She started with praise. “It sounds like you’ve been carrying all this by yourself for some time,” Impazienza observed. “There is a strength in that. It’s important to be able to depend on yourself; there will not always be others around.” Her gaze remained level with the girl’s. Impazienza knew well what it meant to only have yourself to depend upon. She lived that truth daily. “As for stallions, and Trinkets— this mountain is a safe haven for mares. While it is possible for any sister to claim any male who sets hoof in our land and add him to the collective, it is not always the wisest thing to do. Challenging their right to walk on our land, however, is, and I am proud to hear of your earnest defense of our home. Tell me, how would you punish the stallions who trespassed here and harmed your friend, one of our own, if you had to power to do so?”
Impazienza flicked her coarse tail against her white, spotted hindquarters as she considered what to address next. The thing about fairies— it was so like Jezibelle and her fantasies it almost made Impazienza dismiss it, but the pain in the filly’s voice had recalled to Impazienza the constant, barely-cloaked hurt in her sister’s eyes, and she knew that would be a grave mistake. It had been wrong to do to her own flesh and blood; she would not forsake this daughter of the Peak as well. “My little sister sees faeries,” she said, and smiled. “They bring her great comfort, and that is enough for me. It doesn’t matter that I can’t see them. Sometimes I envy her, but there are things in my own life that I excel at and she does not— this is true of all of us.”
Again, she paused. None of these topics should be rushed, and so the mare considered each one as carefully as she knew how before proceeding. This last bit seemed to be the largest compared to the previous conversations, and not just for the filly.
“Stallions are not bad,” Impazienza said at last, acutely aware she had no examples in her own life to back up such a claim. Such was not the case for the black filly, clearly. “You yourself stated that you saw magic when with a stallion, and that he was kind.” Her ears tipped toward the girl. “It sounds to me like you are realizing the rules of the world are not what you have been led to believe. If you had been born in a traditional herd, do you know how your life would be different?”
It was a serious question, and Impazienza wanted to hear the answer: she watched for it first on the filly’s face, certain the girl’s natural expressiveness would reveal much even before she replied. There was a marked difference between being born and raised on the Peak and arriving to the mountain as a conscious adult. Impazienza knew how things would be different, but it did not sound as if though she had been taught about the world outside the mountain. The Prime Minister was glad to see fillies cropping up and frolicking on the Peak but there was no guarantee any or all of them would remain on these slopes forever, and if their mothers were not preparing them for life on the rest of the Islands, Impazienza considered that a great disservice. These fillies would tumble down the mountain and straight into the mouths of wolves disguised in horseflesh.
Stallions were not bad, but the Islands did not favor mares. It was a harsh lesson best learned before the children of the Peak took it upon themselves to go adventuring without the supervision of adults, before they got themselves caught up in trauma and trouble that could be avoided if they knew what to look for, how to avoid it, and how to fight back.
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IMPAZIENZA