It was only when the russet mare nearly paralyzed herself running about the thawing and slippery Meadow did she realize she could no longer do this whole pregnancy thing all by herself. Maybe if she were capable of standing still for a bit could Manticore tough this out until she foaled, but that was unlikely to happen, and if she broke a leg, she’d rather do it in the company of a friend.

She didn’t really have any friends.

Her list of almost-friends included exactly three individuals: Valentine, Onawa, and Dixon. Valentine had been so friendly during the short time she had known him, and Onawa certainly had experience when it came to taking care of oneself alone. Unfortunately, the two of them were on Luthien, a long and chilly swim away, and Manticore was fairly certain Dixon was responsible for this mess anyway. If the rough, dark stallion hadn’t so generously given her this entirely new body to take care of, then it must have come from a stork, because Manticore hadn’t meddled with anyone else.

Despite not having so many warm memories with Dixon, Manticore couldn’t help feeling the tiniest bit excited when she made up her mind to seek him out in the Lagoon. If she were not always convincing herself of her dislike toward the stallion, she would realize that something about him made her frustratingly giddy, and that this whole pregnancy inconvenience was really quite convenient in that it presented her with the perfect excuse to see him again.

She departed the Meadow very soon after making up her mind.

Manticore didn’t really know what to expect when she first encountered the Lagoon. She knew what it smelled like, and had encountered (mostly from a distance) a few of its usually unhygienic inhabitants, but she had never seen into the territory past the first few feet of jungle-like foliage. Now, as she actually approached it for the first time, its still-winter-grey depths seemed cold and menacing.

Manticore refused to be intimidated, and didn’t slow her pace as she crossed into the Lagoon’s borders. She smelled salt water, and the ground sloped gently down to where she guessed a large body of it might be. Her path cut down the slope at a diagonal until she could see the edge of the blue-green body around which the territory was curled. It smelled distinctly of salt, so she turned away from it to find a stream or a pool of fresh water.

As she wandered, hoping to find a snow-fed stream, Manticore kept her eyes and ears alert for the men whose scents crowded her nose. It was difficult to distinguish any one scent from another, and more than once she thought she caught a whiff of Dixon, but she could never hold onto it. It lasted a second and disappeared, and she focused once more on the scent of damp soil and the sound of running water.