For Twinge, life had become almost peaceful, boring even. There was a small part of her that felt a twinge of jealousy at Bacardi’s new promotion and the close connection he seemed to have with the small chestnut mare, but even in the height of her agitation, the painted bay mare knew she was wrong. The voice of mother, always with condescension in her tones, reminded her that it was part of a stallion’s life, collecting mares and spreading their lines. So far, she had found ways to keep herself from succumbing to such carnal pleasures but that did not mean that she was immune to the feelings.

Summer was a fleeting season here in Tinuvel, a far difference from the summer heat of Salem where summer and fall seemed never ending. Already the first snows of fall have frosted the ground in alabaster patches, making the yellowing grasses of the permafrost more prominent to the eye. This time of the year has become one of her favorites, a time when the cool air had not quite turned completely cold and a time when the summer sun still managed to warm their backs and melt away and remnants of the nightly frostings or early morning snowfall. However even in the beauty and serenity of the scene around her, Twinge could not help but feel the excitement of fall begin to course through her veins. Agitation. Like a childish filly, she struck out on her own, tossing her heels high into the sky and screaming her fury to the wind. Of course she was awarded with quite a few strange glares from the more stoic herd mares but Twinge did not care. She was not some gentle quiet soul to follow around the leaders like a meek lamb to the slaughter. A coy smile tugs the corners of her ash dusted lips upward as she slides to a halt and rears, striking her forelimbs out at the invisible foe who stood before her. Muscles ripple beneath her skin as the finely dished mare gives her proud head a toss, landing with an audible squelch in the mirey mud. Clogs of dirt and debri fly as she wheels herself around and launches into a head long gallop down the side of a hillock, leaping with dramatic exaggeration over a small thistle bush. Her actions might appear to be foolish or even childish in behavior but it made her feel better, it soothed the rising toils of emotions and allowed her to forget of the hunger that burned in her belly.

Paper thin nostrils flare as she comes to a halt again, silken banner of black and white tresses resting high over her hip like the flag of a great monarch. Small fluted ears perk amid the tangle of her windswept mane, listening to the soft snorts and quiet huffs of the distant herd members. Aside from the occasional chirp of passing songbirds, the Bay is calm and quiet, a sore reminder to her of the peace that lingered over Tinuvel. Dark eyes soften as not for the first time, she imagines her mother and wonders how the Desert herd was doing. It has been two years now since she left Cain and Harlequin, since she last saw her little sister or Enoch or Melisma or the rest of the family she had grown up with. It was not until lately that she realized just how much she was coming to miss them and wondered if they ever thought of her.

Once more she gives her proud head a shake, trying to rid herself of the sullen thoughts that rose. It did her no good to dwell on her loneliness, especially now. Dark eyes glisten brightly as she set her gaze over the landscape below her searching for something to draw her attention away from the lingering thoughts. The Bay was not without its perks that was for sure.