Lakota has always looked to Ironclad as her saving grace, even now, while she avoids him like the plague. He has been the only constant in her life, from the first time that she had seen him, he had always been there. Cherokee, Ysabel, Vita Nova, Kvothe. All of them had left her in some way or another. But not Ironclad.

Even so, it was hard to be around him with the tumult of hormonal changes that made her skin itch and her mood grow short. She had no patience for being scolded when she was old enough to be out there, making up her own story. The Inlet was, and would always be, her home, but it was safe. Nothing exciting happened here for a near two-year-old filly who had a penchant for pissing off everyone that was older than her. She had no boys that she could flirt with, or friends that she could play with. Pike was the closest thing she had to a best friend, and even she preferred to play with others.

It was lonely, even though she was surrounded by so many others.

Like Pike, Lakota leaned gratefully into the familiar rhythm of sibling animosity, her posture stiff for all of half a second before she relaxed into teasing. "Is Şevket your friend, or your frieeeeeeeeend?" She implied heavily, smirking at her baby sister. Already Lakota understood that her baby sister was beautiful, her slender body shaded in a pretty gold that did not fade in weird patches or grow light spots over dark spots or get all ugly fuzzy when she shed in the summer. Pike was just pretty. And Lakota was not. It would make sense that of the two of them, Pike would find a suitor first, even if the truth stung.

As the younger filly continued on, ranting about how her mother was gone, Lakota scoffs. Her expression darkens as she casts a sour look at the ground, her words bitter with loss. "It's just what moms do, Pike. They leave. And they don't come back." Her gaze returns to her sister just as Ironclad moves to join the party, and sparing a sideways glance, Lakota whispers a quick answer to her question. "Maybe when we're Solomon's age," she offers sassily, as to her youthful mind, Solomon's double-digit age was unfathomably old.

As Ironclad drew to a stop, Lakota wiped her face of any mischief and offered only a chagrined half smile. It was the first time they'd had a chance to talk in months, but she could tell from the serious dad-look that he wore that they weren't going to have a fun chase through the meadows like they used to. His introductory sentence puts her on edge, and a hot bead of shame travels down her spine. Had Medusa told him of what had happened in the Commons? She couldn't tell. She thought he would be more upset about it considering how angry Medusa had been, but then again, their father was far better at controlling his emotions than Lakota was. "What did you have in mind, dad?"