the mare might feel differently if it was cullen who she had just defeated in battle rather than his young son. perhaps then she would be exhilarated by her victory rather than devastated. as it was, she felt worn desperately thin both emotionally and physically. it is not time yet though for the colossal mare to collapse into an inky dark heap of exhaustion and upset. first she must chaperone the stallions of the lagoon to their new residence.

Božena trumpets a bellowing whinny to the bachelors. she had suggested to verrat that he stay and recover from his wounds but it seemed against the colt’s principles. if only his father was as honorable perhaps she wouldn’t be there in the first place. she tries to push cullen from her mind, and by extension macabre but it is hardly possible. everything she has been fighting for these last few days and this most recent battle was, in part, tethered to the palomino stallion.

his alliance with warsaw in the war was unprecedented. in the past, the lagoon and peak had remained largely uninvolved with herd politics. the massive black mare felt as strongly as her sestra had felt when it was time to step up and take the opposing side of the war,though. the ideology that mares were not just as capable was nonsense. she was an example of that. she had bested the lagoon boss once in battle to free herself. she had now beaten his son and taken the entire bachelor herd hostage. what would happen when they flooded the mountain terraces of the peak was what she tried to focus on now…

Božena sets out, headed north toward the looming mountains in the distance. she casts a wary eye behind her occasionally, wondering if she would be forced to turn around and drive the stallions who were a little more reluctant to move… perhaps this would teach them a lesson about stealing mares from their homes and forcing them to the lagoon against their will. she moves with a bracing tension that coils tightly in her large black frame, driven by mere will power alone and when she finally begins to climb the mountain slopes, it is all she can do to push herself up the rocky trail.

finally, the black mare can go no further. she stops to rest at a small rocky outcropping, her muscles quivering with fatigue. grey skin shows in patches on her body, bruised and scabbed in places and her legs are marred with small cuts and scrapes from her scramble through the brambles of the forest. she wonders, absentmindedly, if she would be able to stand again if she were to lay down right then and there… but it is safer to stay on her hooves.

the mare steels herself for one final battle…. a battle of will power and strength and parts her lips to call out for macabre’s children. wasp and bacardi deserved to know her failure.. and what actions she had taken to try and bring justice to her sestra’s death. she also hoped they would agree to her plan to try to form meaningful relationships with the bachelor herd while they were there… perhaps if the brotherhood could learn some of the principles and values that the peak mares held, the band of stallions wouldn’t have such a tarnished reputation…. if she wasn’t so tired she would wonder where one stallion who held ties to the lagoon was…. thoughts of the massive perlino had been pushed aside lately, but for some reason she was almost disappointed she had seen no sign of him in the lagoon.

she waits there, her sides rising and falling as she draws in each breath with intention. truthfully, Božena wasn’t sure she had ever been so tired… not even after the great tragedy that had befallen the vlast when she had washed ashore some years ago…. her soft dark eyes look up the hillside, hoping it would not be too long before the sight of wasp and her younger brother made their appearances.