“What are you doing here?”

Kesja froze mid-stride, bristling at those words and levelling a dark glare at the girl-child who studied her from behind a boulder. The stone looked as if it’d been plucked from the Cove’s mountainside by some giant eagle’s beak and then dropped to rest amongst the golden-brown grass beyond its borders. It looked as out-of-place as the young tobiano felt. She’d been born here in the Bay, and still missed it with a desperate ache; still missed racing along its pebbled shore, still missed watching the sea at her mother’s or Bacardi’s side. But the filly’s question left her feeling as if she no longer belonged. As if she was an intruder here. And that— that hurt enough that Kesja lashed out angrily in response, baring her teeth and flicking her ears back when she spoke.

“Why do you care?” She snarled, her muzzle wrinkling up when she addressed the younger creature. “I can go wherever I want, and I’d like t’see you try and chase me off.” Clenching her jaw stubbornly, the steel-colored mare started forward again, watching the yearling as she passed. To her surprise, her companion did not object and instead fell into step beside her, bobbing along at her shoulder like some small brown bird. For a time only the wind and the soft scuff of hooves over the occasional stone broke their silence. Then— with a note of gentle curiosity— her golden-eyed shadow spoke again.

“Why are you so angry? I only asked you a question. I wasn’t going t’chase you off.” The grullo grunted noncommittally, but Falda pressed on relentlessly, pausing only to weave around the obstacle of a stunted pine. “Are you from the Cove? Mother says that’s where King Solomon lives, but she wouldn’t take me there even when I asked. She said that he’s very busy and doesn’t have time for children like me. That he has enough of his own. Are you one of Solomon’s children?” Oblivious to her companion’s mounting irritation, the dark bay chattered on until Kesja stopped again, swinging towards her so quickly that she skittered away a couple paces, chewing at the air.

“Mother?” The slate-grey adolescent echoed, her fierce mask falling away. Her dark eyes raked the other girl’s features, noting their familiar cast. They shared the same shaggy coat and thick, unruly mane. The same short neck and low, wide withers. Only the yearling’s legs were different— longer in proportion to her body than Kesja’s— and her eyes. Eyes that were familiar in a way that set her heart aching again. “You’re— you’re Bacardi’s daughter, aren’t you? And hers. Valka’s.” Her throat tightened abruptly, and the tobiano continued forward with furious strides. The skjaldmær had sent her away and then replaced her. Maybe there really wasn’t a place left for her here. She’d thought that Bacardi, at least, would be happy to see her, but now the stallion had a real daughter. A daughter of his own.

He didn’t need her.

Falda was disoriented by the swift changes in her companion’s mood, but not as intimidated as another might have been. She’d dealt with the passing storms of her dam’s emotions for long enough to recognize that this was no different. And in recognizing that, the Huskarl’s daughter began to see other similarities. By the time they were able to see the Bay’s small herd, she broke the silence again— the syllables tumbling over one another in their haste to escape her. “You— you’re Kesja, aren’t you? Which means that you’re my sister. And, and—” the filly bounded ahead of the two-year-old mare, wriggling with excitement. “And you’re coming home! Mother and Father will be excited to see you!” With a shrill whinny, the younger girl called out for the Bay’s leaders, then circled back around to her sibling.

Their muzzles bumped roughly together when the brown bay sought to mimic their elders’ ritual greeting, and Kesja jerked her head back as if scalded. Flattening her ears again, the grullo snapped at the air between them, leaping forward with an indignant squeal that announced her intentions.

And Falda— Falda answered with a scream of fearful delight, fleeing from her sister’s mock-anger in a game as old as time itself.