The slow, sweet end of spring dragged into summer, which marched inexorably on to fall. Riesling made herself scarce then, and next she realized it has suddenly turned to winter. The days are short and cold, the grass all dead on the ground, trees barren and snow falling incessantly. Riesling finds it hard to believe she has been here so long already, meekly tucked away in the Prairie. Months on end, season after season. If she just makes it through winter, her year will be up. She’d never figured herself for the sort to be a herd mare, but here she is. It helps that Balor is particularly unconcerned with her activities; apparently, when he offered her a tentative stay with absolutely no conditions, he meant it. She’s seen him sparingly, polite discussions when they pass like two ships in the night, but nothing more. He doesn’t have a large herd here, no politics for her to play at, no need to learn names or join large group gatherings. It has been just what she needs; Riesling caught a glance at her reflection a few weeks back, and she’s filled out again. Gone is her gaunt form, all stretched skin and visible bones, as she floats around the open grass like a ghost. Instead, the Prairie has been good to her; she’s a healthy weight, strong and curved with muscle. Her coat is sleek and shiny again, and Riesling looks as striking as she ever has.

The morning dawns, and Riesling finds herself lonely enough that she’s actually driven to seek someone else out. Making a snap decision, she heads towards the pond figuring the draw of the water will be her best bet for finding company. Riesling isn’t wrong - she crests the small hill to the pond, and there at the edge is an unfamiliar stallion. He’s boldly colored, and as she watches quietly she sees him paw at the water, as if he’s hitting his own reflection. From this distance, she can barely catch the words he growls out, but they don’t sound happy. Briefly, Riesling recalls Balor mentioning that there was another stallion here, although He turns away from the water, and Riesling takes that moment to approach. She doesn’t make an effort to conceal her steps, almost going so far as to make extra noise so he knows she’s coming.

“What did the water ever do to you?” Riesling asks the stallion lowering her head to drink without waiting for any sort of response. She finally lifts her head, and her honey-colored gaze falls heavily on him. “You aren’t Balor. Ruger, then?” Riesling finally adds. “I didn’t realize there was anyone else here still.”