The last of my cities have burned

The day warmed as it reached noon, summer air melting the frost away from the ground and burning away the morning fog. Mercury pounded through the evergreens at a canter, her hooves landing in the soft pine-needle floor with heavy, muffled thuds. She had been running since the early morning, and in that time (with two rests for water) had nearly completed a full circuit around the entire Bay territory. Her throat burned as cold air rushed in and hot air rushed out. Her legs ached grandly from hard use, a wondrous contrast to the ache they had kept up in the Lagoon from misuse.

She was nearly back to the shallow valley where the herd usually kept. She had caught scent of wolves in the farthest corners of the Bay, but hadn’t sighted any, and there was no trace of them this close. The solid steel of her coat, featureless in its lack of dapples, flew through the wild northern trees as if Mercury were a wolf herself. She paled with every passing day, faster and faster, and would probably match the snows when they came. She would be camouflaged like a wolf, then, too; just as quiet and just as deadly, her hoofsteps merely heartbeats of the Bay.

She peaked the last hill of her path and only slowed when a red mare broke the trees beside her and pulled her from her wolf fantasies. Mercury flicked her ears back and sped up again, pulling up beside the heavier mare and running beside her for a few moments. She was breathing in heavy, steady breaths, her chest sore from the long and relentless work, but her legs held no less energy than they had when she began. Sweat dampened her aching neck and flanks, but the grey mare sped up, moving her canter from a graceful mimic of the other mare’s to a more powerful gait. She didn’t know why she was racing this mare, but as she had started it, so she had to finish it, and slowed again only when she realized where they were headed.

Very suddenly Mercury found herself part of a diverse group of mares. Two other greys stood together, one delicate and pretty and the other tall and magnificent. Mercury slowed to let the red enter the group first; the red had a powerful build, and would no doubt be received in a kinder manner than Mercury herself, the least beautiful of everyone here.

Even though she was not beautiful, however, after a moment of hearing the red speak, Mercury surged forward to join as well. Unattractive as she might be, the undappled grey considered herself fiercely a part of this land, and thus a force to be reckoned with. She had no reason to be afraid. She listened to their words and familiarized herself with their scents, and, as it seemed the rest of them were doing, waited for the name of the tallest mare, the one who seemed to have begun the gathering in the first place.

mare, 3, iron grey, 15.3hh