Bacardi follows in Maeve’s wake as she moves through the forest. It is only when he hears the familiar sound of Grizel that he hangs back, watching as the family reunites happily. The painted stallion gives a small nod to Dagda’s thanks, before his golden eyes turn to his little girl who wasn’t so little anymore. Reaching over, his lips playfully at her forelock. “This is your grandmother, Maeve.” he murmured to his daughter, so she knew this stranger wasn’t truly a stranger. “I’m sure she’ll have a different name for you to call her. But you should go introduce yourself. She will be very proud of such a strong girl like you.”


The stallion gave his daughter an encouraging nudge on her shoulder once it seemed Grizel and Daracha were no longer plastered to their mother’s chest, and their sobs had begun to be under control. Even if Maeve was proud of Úlla, that didn’t mean the older mare would be so keen on how she was created. It was life though, and Grizel was not a child anymore. At least she was still safe, here in the Forest where she belonged. Where they all belonged.

mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the forest.

"...speech"