Kestral, in all his uniqueness, has urges of the flesh like any other. The sweet smell of a mare in heat draws him like a moth to flame and Stubline is a most vibrant flame. The mares of the peak, though his prison guards, don't stop his wandering hooves. They trust he knows his place and will return to them, as sure as the sun returns each morning.

And return he does, after a most satisfying coupling. The mare he mounted follows close at his heels. "It is beautiful here. I'm glad you can appreciate the majesty of these mountains as I do." Kestral says, as he ascends a familiar mountain path, well-worn by his hooves and the hooves of many others. "You may live here if it feels right to you. I possess you no more than the ocean can possess the wind." Kestral never liked the idea of one horse laying claim to another. In the end, we all become the earth, and whatever we had or whoever we manipulated in life bears no consequence.

Kestral too, has mounted many mares and sired many foals, but there is something about this mare that feels like an adventure in the making. She is someone significant, and this brisk autumn day marks merely the beginning of something new.