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With the knowledge that Titania had returned to her rightful home in the Thicket, Nekharat made for the edge of the territory where the thick brambles and birches grew taller and more spread out—the Forest, home of the long-reigning queen Persephone, and the site of the war that had sent the islands reeling. In Nekharat’s initial discussion with Wasp, she had learned all that had come to pass here, and as she strode between the thick trunks, she listened to the calls of the birds that rang out like solemn memories of the fallen. Otherwise, it was quiet, save for the steady crunch of her hooves as she moved over the dried out leaves that decorated the forest floor.

The red mare hoped that Persephone might be willing to meet with her, so they could discuss how to maintain some measure of peace, and how the Peak might play a role in such an endeavor. Wasp had been interested in what wisdom the mare led herds might offer, and there was no better place to begin than here. The red Akhal-Teke knew that they were still far from achieving something like equality between the sexes—these notions took generations to grow from mere seedlings into great trees, towering and strong like the ones that surrounded her now. But nothing could grow unless there was someone to stir the earth and plant it in the ground, nurturing it until it was able to stand on its own.

Nekharat stopped in the midst of a clearing, afternoon light beating down upon her back, her red coat shining like a beacon. Lifting her head she called out for her—adding a toss of her nose with purpose.

NEKHARAT