though she had endeavored not to seriously injure the colt, their battle is written plainly across his skin. The great black mare has her own littering of scrapes and scuffles and wears them with a certain humbleness that age has afforded her. As the fjord answers her call, approaching sullenly with clear distain, Božena almost wants to chuckle at his plain defiance, even in the face of his defeat. He reminded her of her bratri…. Lost in her past. Despite his clear dislike of her, she can’t help but feel strangely fond of him.

words are spit like venom from his lips and the towering black mare doesn’t let the cool facade slip from her face. Instead she remains stoically unaffected by his passion, dismissing his childish behavior as easily as twitching a fly off her back. She answers back with surprising seriousness. ”i want to know how to resolve your unhappiness, nattergal. Why is it, do you think, that I fought for you and the other stallions of the lagoon to join us here in the peak?”

she had done a poor job, so far, of befriending the bachelors she had sought to bring into their midst, but one by one, the mare was determined to at least try to explain them why she did what she had….