Mariael didn’t understand what he had meant. The girls had been lucky enough to have been brought back to the herd after birth and to have bonded quite quickly with their father. Lucky, for Maziel’s mother was quick to disappear and Mariael’s… Mariael’s mother was loved and never intentionally broke away from the herd or from Mariael herself… it was complicated. Nevertheless of their interesting situation regarding their dams, the girls had each other, they had their father, and they had the small band of horses that considered the border of the Bay to be home. It was all they understood – that home meant a group of horses who sheltered them and a place with boundaries to stay within in order to remain safe.

It wouldn’t be until they were older that their father might one day reveal his own unconventional upbringing or, even though this time of crossing paths with Samhain, would they begin to understand there were other ways to live.

Maziel allowed Mariael to keep the conversation, knowing her bolder sister would prefer to take charge. It was how they worked in tandem, Maziel understood Mariael needed to be the front-runner and did not mind taking a step back, particularly because it gave her more time to think deeply over everything she processed.

“We haven’t,” said Mariael, “our father has mentioned taking us there when we’re older if we want to go.” Mariael didn’t understand needing to go to any other territory or herd – she was content with the home and family she had. She didn’t understand that one day, some day; she may need to leave it.

Maziel’s ear twitched and she spoke, “How many others are there, Samhain?” Maziel, on the other hand, was very curious. She’d been excited when their father had mentioned a potential visit.

Her nostrils quivered and her ears pressed forward, away from Samhain and Mariael. She could hear it reaching for her, the rise, fall, and pull of the ocean tide; a cry of a gull. The brine brushed in the wind across her nostrils and everything grew greater and greater as they drew closer. “Father says this is where a lot of non-Tinuvel horses arrive.” Said Maziel, happy that she had some knowledge of the outside world, happy that father answered the questions she asked him (he was all she had, parental wise). “Have you ever met a non-Tinuvel horse, Samhain?” She asked.

Mariael’s mother had been born in the Bay and never left. Her gaze rested gently over Maziel and she softened, just slightly, knowing why Maziel was so interested in non-Tinuvel horses; her mother had been one, after all.