The day their son had come into this world had been a struggle. Wroclaw was as brave and as fearless as any warrior, but for his mother, the struggle only continued despite how he grew. The young colt got into everything despite his mother’s warnings and scoldings. Sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong, climbing rocks only a goat should climb, and racing at speeds that made Lace’s heart give a shuttering start stop as it didn’t know if it wanted to race away with him, or freeze and fail with fear. A mother’s worry was never ending for the pony mare, and she was grateful for her mane to already be white to hide away the grey he would have give her.


“Mom! Did you hear that? I think it’s Dad!” Wroclaw exclaimed, jumping up onto a crumble of boulders to try and see further across the land. But where his father’s voice had come from was hidden with trees. “Get down before you fall down.” Lace sighed in exasperation. Would the colt ever learn? She hoped it wasn’t the hard way. With a steady pace, she walked in the direction she had been called from. Both curious and worried why Ironclad would call her. He hadn’t done so in many seasons. Had he noticed, or was there news he needed to share to warrant this?


Anxiety crept through the mare and she hurried up into a trot. Her son still pushed at her to go faster, but never tried to pass. He knew it would only result with teeth pinching the skin of his hip or rump which he hated. Only when Lace finally laid eyes on Ironclad did she slow, a gasp leaving her lips. “Ironclad?! What happened?” Though Lace knew the trials of a stallion’s hard life, his wounds seemed excessive. Slowly she moved closer, extending her nose towards his before inspecting his wounds with the intent to try and clean them so they would heal.


“Did you give them a black eye, Dad?” Wroclaw asked enthusiastically as he looked up at his sire. He had the strongest father out there, so surely the wounds wouldn’t hurt him even if they looked bad, right?!