Indian Hemp has only one daughter, a daughter who's well-being has inspired him to secure this safe haven in the Forest and he is itching to spend time with her, but her mother has done a wonderful job of sheltering the filly from her own father, for reasons Indian Hemp can't fathom to understand. This has created a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts inside Indian Hemp.

Indian Hemp was once a trembling mess of insecurity, unable to speak to another, much less have a family, and a respectable position as second. That part of his damaged self-esteem, though suppressed, is not gone, and it is now leaving whispers in his ears that maybe he's not good enough. He's not strong enough to protect his own daughter should she be challenged for, or not clever enough to catch a thief. Perhaps Chianti regrets choosing him as a sire. Maybe she feels their daughter might suffer similar downfalls.

But there is this new part of Indian Hemp, a part of him that's seen his daughter and everything about her that is beautiful. A stallion that sired such a perfect gem could not be so worthless as he once thought. Indian Hemp needs to prove to himself, and to all those that might doubt him, that he is capable. He needs to learn the things that a father would teach his son. Indian Hemp needs to learn to fight for his family, and to block a steal.

Forgetting what wise resource lives at home, Indian Hemp had ventured to the crossing, and on his outing, he remembered Vercingetorix. The red stallion had helped him once before. Maybe he can help again.

Indian Hemp returns to his forest home, where the bite of late autumn winds is broken by the trees. Only a few hold on to warm-hued foliage, a last tribute to the summer sun, but their broad trunks and interwoven branches do offer some shelter. The spotted stallion trots a well-remembered path to his most-frequented haunt. It is a sheltered area on the outskirts of the territory, and it is cut by a wandering brook. He will stop for a drink then gather the courage to seek Vercingetorix at the heart of the territory. Indian Hemp does not often wander too close to Torix and his herd. It is a gesture borne of both fear and respect.

To his great surprise, Indian Hemp spots a red shape bent over his place at the stream. Indian Hemp slows to a cautious walk and nickers a low greeting. Torix's well-muscled behind in most visible. Indian Hemp doesn't want to sneak up behind him or become victim to a well-aimed kick, so he is sure to speak up and skirt around the stallion. Indian Hemp pulls up beside his lead at the stream, leaving a respectable distance between them. His head is low and snout outstretched. His nostrils flare questioningly. "Hello, Vercingetorix..."