The big brute is eerily quiet for his size, but he isn’t totally silent in the chilly foothills of the Bay. Rieva is so deep in the territory of her not-Father that she is beyond the woods, standing in the scrubby little trees that sparsely populate the base of the mountain. She hears the rushing sound of hooves over tough, dry grass, and the pale dun mare looks up to see him advancing like a big cat.

Her heart stutters, and her ears flatten with hormonal temper. Rieva can smell him, and heat spreads through her in response. Lust and violence butt heads within her, and she squeals and stamps in warning as he draws near. She wants to fight, to make him earn it properly if he’s come to cover her again, though part of her is ready to submit immediately under the force of the season’s hormones. She’s desperately conflicted; she craves his attention, but she’s far too proud to make it easy for him.

Lucifer crowds her, his approach encouraged by her acknowledgement of him. Rieva snaps her tail and bucks, kicking at his lower legs, finding no purchase or at least nothing worthy of a response. Strangely, he doesn’t seem to be fighting her, nor trying to cover her. He’s herding her, and Rieva begins to move instinctively at his direction, bewildered. Unable to resist his forceful movements, the smoke-colored mare lifts her head and calls out to her son, hoping he is close enough to hear — and close enough to catch up. She doesn’t fear for his safety with Lucifer, because there is absolutely no doubt that Ceyx is his child.

She is lathered by the time the foaming gray expanse of ocean stretches out before them. Unsure if the colt has followed them this far, she hits the brakes, turning to grapple with Lucifer for the chance to make sure Ceyx makes it to the beach in time.

the sun hesitates