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Following their conversation, Nekharat and Wasp arrived at something of an understanding. What could have easily ended with the shunning of the red mare from representing the Peak in any kind of significant way, had instead resulted in a new mission set forth for the Akhal-Teke by the Prime Minister. It had been a tumultuous beginning of her tenure as a Vulcan, but the timing of her arrival, so close to the aftermath of tragedy due to the ravages of war, had perhaps been the root of the distrust and uncertainty that the dark leader of the Peak was teeming with.

Nekharat could have easily lived with her fate in either respect. She was not the sort to hinge her entire being on the whims of another, but she had to admit that the collective purpose of the woman of Vulcan Peak had been inspiring. When she was a young filly, she would have never dreamed of being part of a herd made up of strong, independent women. Her formative years had been spent under the eye of Maslakhat, who never looked so hard in her direction that she couldn’t test his boundaries. How incredulous it had been when she had discovered that no such limits truly existed, and the night she slipped away she had only done so because he’d attempted to impose them.

Cause and effect was a universal law she abided by, and she knew that as she made her way to Atlantis in Wasp’s wake, she would likely be calling this rule into play. When they arrived, the dark mare made for the Shore and Nekharat had hung back, biding her time on the beach and waiting for the cover of night before she moved again—silent and careful, searching for the scent of unrest so that she might right a wrong.

In the moonlight, she spotted them in the clearing amongst the underbrush, speaking softly together in clandestine fashion. One mare was rather obviously carrying an unborn child, her speckled coat large with the impending obligations of motherhood. The other had a child with her already, though he could not have been much older than a weanling—leggy and long like she was.

“Quickly,” Nekharat whispered, her ears flicked forward and her red coat gleaming like a ruby under the soft, silver light of the moon. “One of you,” her eyes darted between the two mares—knowing full well that unless Wasp had been on her heels this entire time—she could only restore the freedom of choice to one of them. “Come with me.”

NEKHARAT