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The choice was made, and Nekharat was thankful for their haste. The thought had crossed her mind in coming upon these two mares in the moonlight, that they would not have been able to quickly agree on who might come. In truth, the red mare hated that she could not take them both, but she knew that it was outside of her capabilities to usher away two mares in a single evening without being noticed. Still, it was better to make a small impact than none at all.

Nekharat also trusted that their choices were made for the right reasons. Her eyes flicked from Vanya to the other as they acknowledged the difficulty of the decision, saying their goodbyes before she roused her young colt from sleep. It pleased her that they both had the strength to be amicable, and that bickering had not jeopardized the opportunity she had presented them. The red mare too would have accepted a decision where they both stayed. Nekharat would not force them to do anything against their will, but evidently the present conditions of their place among the herd here were dire enough to warrant seizing the chance to leave with her for something better.

The black and white mare nodded at her, thanking her before disappearing into the dark of the jungle. Nekharat lightly tipped her head back in return—hoping that she would not have to suffer alone much longer. If she did meet the woman again, she hoped it was under less serious circumstances.

“To the Peak,” Nekharat whispered to Vanya in the darkness as they moved carefully toward the edge of the shoreline. There, the overo woman and her son could rest until the sun rose over the mountain, painting the rocky landscape awash with the pink light of morning when everything was new.

NEKHARAT