Indian Hemp has been nearly distraught. He has searched high and low for Chianti, the strange chestnut mare that liked him for no particular reason. He never thought there was any part of him that loved her. His past experiences have learned him only of the cruelty of others. He tried not to get too attached to anyone or anything because he can never predict when things will change and heartbreak becomes inevitable, but in her absence, the spotted stallion has felt oddly alone. Despite her quirks Indian Hemp finds himself pining for Chianti and worrying about what horrible misfortune must have happened to her and their unborn foal. Her bald face appears at the center of every dream and lingers persistently at the fringes of his consciousness.

The whole purpose of his move was to provide Chianti with a more stable environment for them to raise their child together. Granted, Indian Hemp has gained a lot more than just that in moving to the forest, but the loss of its central purpose has left him drowning in restlessness. Indian Hemp is approaching the shores, preparing for another journey back to the Crossing. Perhaps if he checks the places he's seen Chianti before, he might run into her. But on his journey westwards, he discovers a familiar and shocking scent: Chianti. At first he thinks it must imagined. He is thinking about her, and he wouldn't put it past his own mind to imagine triggers of the senses that once went with these thoughts. Though after a measure of time, the spotted stallion discovers that this is not a false trail.

Emerging from the cover of trees he finds her, and she is not alone. Chianti is standing with her head lowered. She looks tired but well, however this is not what freezes Indian Hemp in his tracks. There, in a heap in the sand, lies the most beautiful creature the stallion has ever seen. The filly is the most gorgeous mosaic of ginger spots. Her delicate face and her high, child's voice melt the stallion's heart. Indian Hemp remains immobile. He stands, just free of the cover of trees, only a stone's throw from his small family, and he says nothing. He lowers his own head. His white-rimmed eyes are alight with wonder, and for once, his nervous ears do no swiveling. They are locked with rapt attention on the mare and filly before him.

INDIAN HEMP

five years * stallion * black partial leopard * 16.1 hands * appaloosa x irish thoroughbred * cliff lion x niamh
played by Sabrina