She watched her daughter leave with her heart in her throat, but said nothing. Not just because it was hard to deter Corvair once she got her mind set on something, but because Vette felt guilty for keeping her cooped up in the Bay for so long. There was no guarantee that Fell would ever come back from them, and as the months stretched on, she grew less certain that he even lived. In truth, the gray mare knew she probably should have moved on the second his claim on the Bay passed to his son, but she had clung to the hope that the enigmatic black stallion that had given her so much would come back someday.

That hope had waned abruptly as autumn ended.

Though Vette had never put it into words, she had assumed that if anything were to draw Fell back to his herd, it would be the season of babymaking. After all, he had a whole cadre of mares here that seemed all too willing to give Corvair little brothers and sisters, herself included. But when autumn passed without a word, her hope deflated and a queer sort of apathy set in. One she was unfamiliar with, and did not enjoy. It was hard to care about much at all, especially when it came to caring for herself.

And so when Corvair left, Corvette said nothing.

Only watched her go in silence, hovering like a ghost in the treeline, her soft lips pulled into a faint frown.