Mares were all the same in the beginning. They thought they could get away with not following my wishes, of trying to defy me, but in the end they all caved. My teeth were enough of a threat to keep them cowed, usually, though sometimes their disobedience prompted me to kick. I followed the spotted mare until it drew closer to the black speckled mare, and only once the two were in closer proximity did I move away from the newest addition to my herd.

Satisfied, I trotted in a wide half circle around the mares and stared through the trees. With each passing day I grew more confident that this land was empty. Sometimes I thought I smelled the black stallion on the wind and it always made me pause, head up and ears quivering as I took short, fast breaths to identify and locate the scent. Now, however, I stood calm and breathed evenly. The air smelled of the oncoming winter and rotting leaves under our hooves. It was time to move further in, before this grove became overgrazed. There were many other open spaces in the trees, and plenty of grazing by the stream that ran through the woods. I remembered all of them, and I would mark all of them as my own until the black stallion’s stench was gone.

I heard the new mare speak again and cocked an ear toward it. Names. It was always about names with others, as if that had anything to do with who I was or how they would be treated. I remembered mine sometimes. I knew it was there, buried deep, and I shook my head. It was pointless to think of. I dipped my head and pulled up a mouthful of grass. I would bring the herd further into the forest when the sun rose again.