Iris gently touched Adelheid’s withers, her nose and her breath whispering up to bury in her mane. Adelheid’s own breath caught on her lips and her body stiffened under the touch.

So few dared touch her, even less got away with it. Other than her children, and the stallion that had given her one of them, only Herza had come to be able to touch Adelheid’s flesh. Thoughts of the friesian mare thundered into her mind only to be whispered away by the subtle movements in her mane and on the soft skin of her neck. She was suddenly aware of how close Iris’ body was. She could not see the expression on the spotted mare’s face, thankful she could not see the expression that crossed her own. With a snort to clear her mind and a shake of her neck to forget the touch, she shifted away from her, desperately trying to maintain her composure. With a flick of an ear, she pulled the stoic mask back over her dark face.

Turning away, she looked to the north and nodded in acknowledgement of what Iris said. Pale gold, white patches. She exhaled, pleased she was able to rule one golden stallion off their list. It was doubtful Rade would have been the culprit, though Adelheid had to admit she did not know much about the father of the colt she was raising. She looked back at the other mare, her tail swished. Let’s go. Once more turning away to hide any expression, stubbornly resisting the urge to reach out to touch her, she led the way through the Peak to the northern shore for Tinuvel.