Poor, sweet little Kæja. Mae had stood crying as the black beast had taken their child into the sea. The waves were surely to swallow up her little head; how would she have the strength to make the swim to where he was taking her? Would she ever get to see her daughter again? Guilt was thick like blood, drowning the pale mare until she felt as if she would never breath again. Thankfully she was able too, when the filly was returned to her side. Mae had doted on her daughter without end until that dark ocean of grief had passed. Not that Mae had ever neglected or been far from Kæja’s side.


Still, it had brought a reality to the pale mare what she had been purposefully ignoring. Powerless, and opinionless; it didn’t matter if she had done something or said something to try and stop the stallion from taking the babe into the frigid water. It was for the same reason he had been able to mount her again this season. Only, unlike the last, Mae’s gut twisted with worry when the days followed and her heat had diminished. Would he be as ruthless and as reckless with this one, as he had been with the last? If only she knew what had transpired on Salem that day.


Mae hated herself for not being stronger. To not stand against him and make her opinion known. Would it have been this way, if she had remained in the Badlands? Would Rafe have been so deaf?


Although Mae had not come to know the Bay herd mares personally, she had stuck close to the group for the safety in numbers. The wolves she had heard on several occasions since coming here hadn’t allowed the mother to put her child in jeopardy just because she was generally elusive. Today was no different as she picked her way along a stream, doing her best to snag a few bites of remaining dead grass steams. Kæja along with the herd was somewhere close; their scents heavy upon the air, and the sound of them moving through the freshly fallen snow.