Runar has chosen the wrong time of year to wander this far from his mother for the first time, but he can wait no longer.

It’s a bitterly cold early winter’s morning. Silver legs that are too long for his growing body knock together with voracious shivers, and his breath comes out in quick plumes of condensation that cloud his vision as he navigates the steep foothills of the Peak. At least it’s not icy today, though hoarfrost clings to the grass and trees like a dusting of fine crystals, painting the landscape almost completely white, and crunching beneath his hooves like snow.

His body sings with the rebellion of his adventure, even with the knowledge that he will most certainly be punished for wandering so far. Let his mother be worried and angry. He is over six months old now, fully weaned, and desperately lonely. His mother may be determined to reject all offers of a proper home and herd, but Runar craves social interaction - something his mother is reluctant to give him most days - so strongly that it hurts. On more than one occasion - particular after he has watched a pair of foals playing and not been allowed to join them - the hurt has been so unbearable that it’s brought him to tears.

The further he treks into the hills, the stronger the scent of other horses becomes, and the faster Runar’s blood runs, pounding through his body like a fierce network of rivers. Just as he is worrying that some grown-up will stumble across him and throw him out, a likely target appears from out of the mists as if by magic: a filly about his own age, her golden pelt sprayed with white. And she is alone.

For a moment the reality of what Runar has done - come here, to a place of strangers, with no one to defend him or be responsible for his actions, and no mother to speak or think for him, - freezes him in place, but he pushes past it, taking one step forward, and then two, and then the next thing he knows, he is walking right up to her, his legs now trembling for a very different reason.

“Hey, you,” he calls out, and when he stops in front of her, the strange crown atop her head draws his attention. “Why are your ears like that?”