Dances presses close, desperate to assure himself that Rowena truly is okay. She carries the scent of blood on her coat, and in the gloom, the bay paint cannot see clearly, and flounders internally. How badly hurt was she, really? But, in true Rowena fashion, she is far more concerned for him. Her tears and her rumbled threat ground the stallion in a way, and the turmoil inside him lessens as he focusses on comforting his beloved. “I will be okay,” he murmurs into her ear, his breath as hot upon her neck as her tears are upon his muzzle. He muses in silence, choosing not to answer the loaded question. There will be time for explanations later, when the danger has passed, and the storms within them have abated.

Too late, always too late, Dances realises that his own fear-laced exclamation born of guilt has opened the floodgates. One day, one day perhaps he will learn to balance himself. But for now, he seeks to piece together that which he has broken. “We will find her,” he promises, and his voice is so much steadier than he feels. He had been the wind that had knocked Rowena into an ocean of uncertainty, and now he would be the rock she could cling to, until the tide went out. “Echo will be okay.” And when guilt starts to rise within him again, he rips it out and tosses it away. Dances With Wolves chooses to make his own fate. More than anything he wants Rowena to be at peace within herself, and surely that much wanting must make a difference. With a glance behind, silently the white-patched stallion commands Tigerlily to follow with the colt, and Dances With Wolves leads his family deep into the Forest, where no-one can hurt them.

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Days upon days they’d spent traipsing through the trees. There was no sign of the blind mare and her young colt among the herd, nor the stragglers that lingered in the shadows. But Echo and Eastwise did not number among the Fallen, so there was still hope. The survival of the small black colt, half-brother to Dances, was a small miracle, and even after an altercation between himself and Tigerlily, Dances With Wolves seemed in good spirits, despite the absence of Echo. As the season wore on, and Rowena’s belly grew heavy with the promise of new life, the bay stallion seemed to be changing himself. Some would put it down to age and experience, but whatever the cause, Dances, though still shy when it came to physical confrontation, became increasingly vigilant, and hovered close to Rowena always.

Dawn had broken, trickling pale gold light through the canopy far above when Dances stirred from a light sleep. Those deep blue eyes of his turned immediately towards Rowena, still settled beside him, and a dreamy smile lit up his face as he took advantage of this perfect peaceful moment to admire the lines of his lover’s face. And when she, in turn, stirred into wakefulness, he pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. “It’s a new day, my love,” Dances murmured in greeting. A day for questions to be answered, perhaps. But for now, the tobiano male was concerned about only one answer – the one to his softly spoken question. “How are you feeling?”