Stones and bones

❀

Kæja untangles herself, encouraged by the soft touch of her mother. She bursts to her feet, stumbles once, and regains her balance. Not quite one year old, the dark filly is mostly legs. She opens her mouth, ready to tell Mae against whom she had faced off, but then paused. She did not even know what to call him.

Dad was certainly not correct, but Fell was not quite right either. “Uhm,” she says, thinking hard, her little face screwed up with the effort. “A shadow,” she decides after a moment. It’s not a confident answer; it’s not exactly right either, but it’s better than the other two options. “I see him watching sometimes, but I scared him away this time.” Not considering whether or not Mother would know who she was talking about, Kæja leaves it at that.

She is ready to bound away again to play at the edge of the stream, but her mother’s nudge to her hip keeps her attention. Kæja’s interest grows as Mother speaks of the Peak (an unfamiliar entity, but the word itself is familiar) and the Valkyries, a term Kæja does not recognize at all. This only makes it more interesting for the espresso-colored filly, and she nods her head enthusiastically. Mid-nod, Kæja realizes she got the question wrong, pauses, and then shakes her head in correction. “I want to see the Peak and the Valkyries!” she shouts, and spins around to race the wrong way up the stream. After a few strides, she notices the direction of the flow of water, and she spins back and tears past Mae in the other direction.

Realizing she truly has no idea where she’s going, Kæja skids to an ungraceful halt, and turns to her mother to wait for proper directions. “Where are we going?” she asks excitedly, little hooves prancing in place.

Kæja