Another long winter had come and gone, bringing more aches and pains than Mouse had thought possible. Her right shoulder yelled at her as she moved up and down the mountainside, and her joints popped from time to time in protest. Surely she couldn’t be getting old? Yet her dark face was beginning to show her age as well; after she shed her winter coat, grey hairs had suddenly begun to appear along her cheekbones and above her eyes. Looking into the clear pool, she saw the signs of age, but now that the weather was warmer she no longer felt it. The grulla dipped her lips to the surface of the water, disturbing the lying reflection with a wave of ripples.

After she satiated her thirst, she turned away from the pond with a swish of her tail and surveyed the clearing. She was alone. When was the last time she’d spoken to another horse? She’d had glimpses of Impa throughout the winter, but often from afar. Had her legs been longer she might have chased after her friend, but often the snow was up to her belly and it was best to stay sheltered beneath a strong pine rather than risk slipping. Besides, each mare liked her alone time. However, not seeing the likes of anyone else was unusual, given the many scents that still lingered.

Sighing, Mouse began to walk across the clearing. The sun shone warm upon her back and her muscles stretched pleasantly as she walked. The warmer air was filling her with an energy she hadn’t known since autumn. She paused for a moment, glancing around to ensure she was alone. Then, digging her hind hooves into the soft earth, she sprang forward with a playful squeal. Her head dipped to the ground as she kicked her legs out in a buck, and, shaking her mane as she went, she loped happily and leisurely back toward the pond.