The turn of season had led to colder water. The chill had seeped deep into her bones, igniting the ache in her shoulder from the injury so long ago. As she had churned her stiff limbs against an occasionally tumultuous sea, the small grullo mare questioned her judgment. Many happy years had been spent with her now grown children. When she had left the islands the last time, it was because Osprey had come to tell her of dissent amongst her old herd. She had left without a word. Not even to Impa.

The memories of her life prior to her arrival on the islands remained distant and hazy, but the tales told to her by the survivors had emboldened her. They remembered who she was, what she had done. They had looked up to her. It was this loyalty that had led to a second success. Peace had been restored. Mouse was free to return home at last.

Standing upon the rocky shore on the western edge of the Crossing, she stared up at the Peak with apprehension on her aging, white-flecked face. The memories of her life here were very sharp, but they were not all good. Logic told her she should have stayed where her family was, and where she knew it was peaceful. Yet life often has other ideas, and she had felt a yearning to return ever since her departure. It had hurt her sometimes, and it often had consumed her to the point where she would lose sleep. Yes, her blood family was there, but her chosen family was – hopefully – on that mountaintop. Now was not the time to entertain an alternative.

Mouse tossed her tangled, salt-ridden forelock out of her eyes and took a deep breath before moving forward. There was a significant hitch to her movement from the stiffness in her right shoulder, but with every stride it loosened. As she moved, she scanned the familiar landscape for anyone she may recognize. Each passing second without sighting another horse caused her heart to pound harder against her ribs. And then, as she crested a small hill –

Mouse lurched to a halt and her breath caught in her throat. There, on the gentle slopes of the foothills. Her face had also changed, but with her height and the blanket it was unmistakably Impa. The grullo mare let out the air she had held and smiled. Her short legs sprang into action, carrying her at an uneven canter toward the draft mare.

Out of breath from the recent swim and her anticipation, she could not call out to her. The dull thuds of her hooves would be the only warning. Mouse was so caught up in the excitement of finding her friend so quickly that she didn’t pick up on the strange scents of her old home, nor did she immediately notice the bay also approaching.

By the time she was closer, she had been forced to slow to a trot due to the ache in her right foreleg. She had also noticed the strange mare who had approached Impa. Though the bay was standing at a distance, Mouse wasn’t sure if she should consider the other a threat. Not everyone who had ever called the Peak home had been welcoming – a certain champagne mare came to mind.

The grullo approached from Impa’s right side, remembering that on the left she was blind. She had no way of knowing that the draft could now hardly see anything. Suddenly, standing in the vicinity of these two, she felt her confidence fade. There was so much she wanted to say to her friend, but in front of the bay mare it would not be possible. Still, she needed to say something.

Mouse softly cleared her throat and glanced apologetically at the unfamiliar bay mare. “Sorry to interrupt.” Her gaze returned to the blanketed draft. She longed to run to the other mare’s side and bury her face into her strong, dark shoulder. Ignoring that impulse, she opened her mouth again, but no sound came out. It felt as though something heavy was blocking more words from escaping her mouth. Perhaps it was her heart, which had resumed its frantic attempts to escape her chest.