Slowly, Abraxas was putting names to faces. There was Thranduil, of course: the marauder who'd recruited him—though, Brax reminded himself, he was no longer marauder, having recently been outvoted by a stallion called Khyber—then there was Garmr, the boss, an individual who intimidated Brax and who he had given a wide berth so far. Alioth, the general, was more approachable: Brax had engaged in a spar with him, once, as well as once with a soldier called Enigma and, most recently, a fellow associate called Warg. There were probably another dozen individuals Abraxas knew by face but could not have put a name to, including—intriguingly—a handful of mares and foals. Abraxas tried not to think too hard about where the mares had come from.

One day, as the heat of the summer sun beat upon the backs of the Lagoon brothers, Abraxas encountered a new face. The stallion was in his prime, older than young Brax, and tall and leggy with bold black-and-white markings. Abraxas subtly watched him for a time while he grazed to learn more about him. The stallion, like himself, seemed curious but aimless, and spoke to no one. Clearly he was another newcomer. Abraxas was only too fresh in the Lagoon himself and still remembered the isolation he had felt the first few weeks when he knew no one. Lifting his head, he made a decision then, and made for the stranger with a friendly whicker as the sun glinted on his bronze coat.

"New here, huh?" Brax smiled, hazel eyes gleaming with friendliness. "I'm not long here myself. What's your name, Brother?"