She has grown wild in the care of her mother - a streak of moonlight dancing elusively through fir groves and jagged mountain tops. When she was younger she would sneak off into the trees just as soon as her mother fell asleep. She liked to think then that her mother didn’t know what she was up to, but she did. Her mother had been a wild thing once too, before she came to live with Solomon. Eventually, Shiloh came, and Minu no longer needed to sneak away. It was clear that though her mother loved her and doted on her, Minu had been deemed grown enough to fend for herself. She was gone most nights after that - wandering the wild places of Tinuvel until sunrise pinked the sky and she returned home to tease her sister and doze with her mother.
This night she wanders far enough that when the sun lights the horizon in rivers of orange and pink she is deep into the northern reaches of the island. She doesn’t know it, but her dam used to live here in the Inlet. Perhaps if she did know, she would wonder why Lyrae never returned to this place.
Unknowingly, she walks an old path her mother might have taken many, many years ago. The trail is a well worn scar that cuts northward along the beach. The surf rolls lazily in the morning glow, shushing against the pebbled shore - a slumbering beast that does not yet show her teeth. But there are the bones of battered boulders that tell of this cold sea’s tendency towards ferocity. The wildness of it speaks to her in some primordial way - warning her of potential danger and yet stilling her heart with peace and wonder all at once.
Eventually, she sees an odd pair before her - a stallion marked with the colors of stone and deepest shadow, and a young girl who couldn’t be more than half a year old. The girl’s posture is nothing less than unwelcoming towards the stallion, her pitched voice carrying through the stillness of the morning. Minu approaches.
“Your Da must be very proud to have such a fierce daughter,” she says smiling towards the bay dun filly. Minu positions herself beside the girl, though not within striking range, and slightly forward toward the stallion should she need to defend the young girl. Her positioning is subtle - she hopes subtle enough that the young girl won’t feel slighted in some way, but it is with intention. They are strangers, but if living in a herd has taught her anything, it is that no matter whose kid it is, everyone protects the young.
“You must not be Bjorn,” Minu says, turning her mismatched gaze onto the stallion. “My name is Minu. I am visiting from the Cove.”
m i n u
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