If Kune had known pain when he had witnessed Bozena being led away to the Lagoon by Cullen, it was another kind altogether to follow, see her again, and then be forced to leave her behind in that terrible place. But there had been little other choice. Cullen’s dishonorable idea of a ‘deal’ had left them all at an impasse. It had shamed Kune to leave, but they all needed time to regroup and figure something else out. What he had not counted on was that “something else” being Bozena fighting and freeing herself… but after seeing the storm raging in her that day, Kune should not have been surprised. Bozena might not have years of Strážce training as he did, but what she had in plenty was a fighting spirit that not even Kune could match.

But he did not learn of this turn of events until one spring day as he stood dozing on a hillside that overlooked the border between the Peak and Lagoon. Kune had kept watch every day on this secluded perch, which had the added benefit of keeping him out of direct sight of the Peak mares. Their numbers had swelled in the time since Bozena had been taken, and though he knew he was here with Bozena’s blessing, he felt more and more every day like an intruder. This was a mare’s place, and without Bozena here, Kune felt as welcome as a stone lodged in a hoof. Though none of them had confronted his presence so far, Kune did not feel inclined to test the extent of his welcome by making himself visible. Besides, he still knew so little of the island language, and he did not care to make a fool of himself by attempting conversation, even with any of the few mares who were familiar with him. So he bided his time, watching and waiting on his little hill, hoping that perhaps Drika or Wasp would approach with a new idea of how to free Bozena and Merete. A Strážce’s place was not to plan, after all, but to obey and act.

Long hours of vigilance had taken their toll on him, however. Kune was thin, his supple muscles wasting, his dark face lined with exhaustion from many sleepless nights. Finally it became too much, and though he could not bear to tear his gaze away from the border just in case Bozena or one of the Lagoon stallions made an appearance, he knew he could not carry on much longer without sleep. So he dozed, his great heavy head hanging over his knees and his eyelids twitching as restless dreams spun through his head.

It was the whinny that woke him: the whinny he knew as well as his own.

His head jerking up, Kune spied her immediately: his sweet Bozena chatted with one of the Peak mares on a rocky trail just below his hill. For a moment his groggy brain could not process her arrival. Then he was seized with a maelstrom of emotions: joy, fear, and shame. He felt them thick like molasses in the hollow of his throat as he watched her. She looked hale and healthy from what he could tell, though there were a few marks across her sleek hide that made his gut clench. His legs itched to run to her, to throw himself recklessly down the hillside to reach her as quickly as possible, but he remembered how he had shamed her, and was frozen in place. He did not feel worthy to be seen in her presence.

So instead, as he had done for days, Kune stood like a solemn black gargoyle on the hillside, watching and waiting. If she would only look up, she would see him… yet did he want that? He had no idea what he wanted any more.