MAY THE SECOND BITE YOU IN THE BREAST

Winter was almost over, and already, most of the snow was absent from the crossing – save for the tops of the mountains. Geirdriful eyed those mountains carefully, her gaze lingering on one in particular; the one which towered above the rest and was the home of the sisters she had so recklessly left behind. Coming from a family of wanderers, it had been a necessary excursion that was now over - for Geirdriful had arrived on the peak as a filly, and called it home ever since. She did not expect to find a home anywhere else.

With adept steps, the dunalino began her climb and relished the familiar chill in her lungs as she ascended. She knew, with so much snow still lingering on the higher peaks, she would not have to go too far before she found signs of life. Fresh hoof prints and patches of flattened earth were the first indication that the Vulcan mares were nearby, but for now Geirdriful continued alone. From what little she could gather, their numbers were no larger than when she left, and she hoped they were also no fewer