The mares have been taken and I fear that so too has Dogun’s happiness. The small lead took to the cold mountains soon after the defeat and in his absence I have watched quietly over the remaining herd, replaying the battle many times over in my mind. A huge part of me feels like I have let the grullo down, that I am responsible for the loss of his women. Guilt ridden and sore I have remained quiet among the herd, offering only my name and the odd instruction when pressing them forward.
The grey skies have become heavy with the promise of more snow and from beyond the ragged hill tops I sense a fast approaching storm. I start to push the mares once more as the heavens slowly begin to fall, nervousness beginning to creep beneath my skin and I find myself willing the Pony King to descend from the hills. I am new, not only to the Inlet but also to the islands themselves and am yet to face a hard winter here. Without knowing the land and how it is affected by the seasons, I must rely solely on instinct as I try to figure out where best to herd the mares.
With an icy cold wind whipping against my body I battle the snowy ground and zigzag behind the small gathering, reaching my maw to their hides in an attempt to quicken the pace as I aim them for the forest. The unmistakable sound of approaching bodies pulls me from behind the group and I open my nose to the womanly scent that fights against the wild winds. I eye its source; a beautifully tall mare draped in a white that mimics the already fallen snow. The haze from the covered earth makes it difficult to decipher if the woman is alone or if she has company. Unsure of whom the newcomer is I look to the roan grullo for some direction and she unknowingly replies to my silent question with a look of recognition.
A familiar call rattles around the group and a grateful sigh escapes me as the dark pelt of Dogun comes into view. I stumble through the snow towards him and he voices what we all can sense; the storm is building momentum and we must move
now.
Where? I yell back to him and the Bay comes as my answer. No further questioning is required as white flecks begin to fall harder and faster and I place myself behind the round-barrelled roan and her herd mates. I toss my crown towards them, my ears pressed hard against my neck and I quickly begin towards the Bay.
Darius
THERE IS NO TURNING BACK