The morning after she shook the rust of battle from her bones, Oswin remembered why this was a young horse’s game. Sure, she was barely halfway through her expected life, but Oswin hadn’t lived a very easy one. From a young age she’d recklessly thrown herself into the fray, fight after fight, and never took the time to truly heal a sore injury before she was going again. The bumps hurt more, the soreness made her muscles feel much, much more stiff than they had when she was three, or five. A wry grin twisted her pink lips as she wondered how the black mare was faring this morning. They’d gotten a little carried away in the heat of the moment and Oswin knew she’d been a little more vicious than need-be.

Her left back pastern was sore enough she groaned out loud the moment she put her weight down. Immediately Oswin shifted her weight and gently rested the point of her hoof, huffing a large, irritated sigh. Her white ears flicked backwards. This was going to be a very, very annoying week or so of healing.

Her mouth felt dry from sleep. Another breath of annoyance huffed out of her mouth. Thankfully, she’d chosen to sleep not too far from a stream being fed off slowly melting clumps of snow and only hobbled a few paces to reach it. As she stopped near the bank, her hooves slowly sinking into the wet, soft earth, Oswin glanced back at her sore, inflamed ankle and knew what she needed to do. The water splashed cold and made her suck in a sharp breath, but she knew it would be worth the relief for her injury.

After lowering her lips to take a few hard gulps of crisp, cold water that hit her empty belly and made her shiver, Oswin lifted her head to look over herself. There was a long, scabbed over gash on her back-leg that’d crusted as it healed overnight. That was separate from the tweak she’d gotten in her ankle. What she couldn’t see but could certainly feel were the dark blue, purple marks that stood out on her gold and white coat along her neck, nearer her shoulder. That’d been from Bagheera’s last attack, when she’d reared up and kicked her front legs hard into Oswin’s body.

She sighed and laughed, and turned to walk carefully through the cold stream and back toward the bank. Maybe she should go find that young, ferocious black mare and see what she thought of being a Peak mare. They could use someone like her willing to fight for the freedoms of others.

Her belly was still empty and as much as she didn’t want to move, she couldn’t ignore the call of hunger. Oswin made a slow way toward the nearest clearing that she knew would be bursting with vegetation this time of year. As she moved carefully out of the treeline she noticed another horse, a young one she didn’t know, colored fairly similar to herself. Oswin rumbled a gentle, kind nicker, hopefully the mare wouldn’t mind her sharing the space.

“Hello,” she greeted, smiling and holding a grunt under her breath as she slowed to a stop and carefully rested her weight. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding on you, this is the closest place to graze I was near and I don’t feel like walking a whole lot today.” She grinned, trying to make light of her apparent after-battle wounds. They joined the many, many scars already littering her body from years of past fights. “I’m Oswin. Are you new to the Peak, or have you been here awhile?” She looked somewhat apologetic. “I’ve just returned after a few years away so everyone seems to be somewhat a stranger to me these days.”

oswin
this is as brave as I know how to be.
I know it’s gonna hurt you, but please… be a little proud of me.