Author's Note!

Sorry for being a horrible person. I work waaaaaaay too much. My full time job has a juvenile chauvinist for a manager. This week has been horribly horrible. Thanks to B-Rad for being there for me :)

I'm also a horrible person because I've had this done for a while. I lost my laptop charge cord in yet another move. Hopefully this one is the last. This is the original posting re-written. I'm rounding it out.

The snow was deep and the Stallion had led them to a clearing that, in warmer weather, would probably be filled with sweet flowers. Now, in the middle of winter, it had less snow than the surrounding area due to the thick tree branches that overhung it from the forest. Snow Mask snorted, the air misting in front of her face. Several of her herd mates were complaining about their pregnancies and she snorted again. She had been one of many, but the most vehement, that had denied the Stallion his rights as their protector. He would have had trouble anyway; she was much taller than he was.

One of the few pale duns in the herd, she was surprised for their territory was at the foothills of the mountains that saw more winter than any other season. One would think that more duns and dapple grays would be prevalent to blend in with the snow. Something in her said she was in the North, but at the same time that something faded as she shook her head. She was a horse! Horses didn't have thoughts like those.

Pawing at the snow, she dug herself a hole to eat at the tender grass the snow was hiding. The winter had been mild, the other horses said. They didn't have to dig far for the tender grass. The rest of the herd loved this as the pregnant herd-sisters complained about carrying in the winter was bothersome. While they were excited, it was hard to dig for grass. All their thick coats helped keep them warm. She shook herself. She didn't like her strange thoughts and set to digging another hole in the snow. If she was lucky, she'd find a clover patch.

'You denied him again, Snow Mask?' a mare asked.

She looked up to see Hates Clovers, a pretty perlino dun. The other dun was almost as pale as she was, but had a wide white blaze down her face instead of a mask like she had. Where the blaze covered her right eye, Hates Clovers had a bright blue eye while the other was a darker blue. The other was a seemingly iridescent cream color with tall white stockings that mimicked her black dun marks. Snow Mask's white mask made both her eyes a dark blue that faded to almost silver at the edges.

Snow Mask shook her head. Hates Clovers snorted a laugh. 'He's the king, but he's old and has all the issues that come with age. I know some of the other mares find it fetching, but Honey Blossom always complains after he's done with her.'

Hate's Clovers laughed. 'I'm just not ready for rearing foals yet. Maybe my next season or the one after...'

Snow Mask snorted.

'What?' the other horse asked as she ate a mouthful of grass.

'You ever feel you're supposed to be somewhere else or with a different herd?' Snow Mask asked as she shook herself of some snow that had fallen from a tree branch.

Hate's Clover thought about it for a moment. 'I used to until I found this heard.' She cropped another mouthful of grass. 'There was this sense of longing and not belonging. So I left my other herd in the night while they were sleeping."

Snow Mask sidled over to her herd-sister. Reassuring the other horse, the mare said, "You're here now."...

She woke up naked as the day she was born as a Two-Legger.

Breathing hard, she looked around. She was in the middle of nowhere with a mixed herd of horses with a few ponies. She and another horse were a bit removed from the rest of the herd, loners she supposed or maybe Watchers, but there was a sense that she was a part of the herd. It was the beginning of spring, with snow clinging only in the deep shadows.

The air was very fresh and clean; a thought of which made her frown.

'Snow Mask...' The mare near her asked as she turned to look at her. The horse's body stilled, eyes widening. 'Why do you look like a Two-legger?'

"I don't know," she told the horse. "I s'pose this is the feelin' I was talkin' about all that time ago."

The other horse was a pretty perlino dun that had one blue eye and one hazel eye from the large white splash called an apron face. She thought for a moment. "Shouldn't you have two blue eyes?" the girl asked the horse.

Hates Clovers shook in a shrug. 'It's what I was blessed with to have.'

The horse eyed her now Two-legger herd-mate, but that was wrong. This Two-legger was People. The mare snorted to get the Two-legger-People's attention. Smokey blue eyes turned their attention back to her. 'Do you have a Two-legger name?'

The girl thought about it. With how old she appeared, she would have had to have a name. "Pro'bly," she replied. "Can't remember it at th' moment, though." She rubbed the side of her head. When that didn't alleviate the growing pain, she held her head in her hands.

Hates Clovers stepped over to her Two-legger-People herd-sister, whuffing a breath over face. She just flinched. Sighing, the dun touched her nose to the girl's shoulder and passed along some of her copper-fire that made her People. The horse watched as her herd mate relaxed, curling up on the ground, asleep. Snorting, the mare took a few steps away to crop some sweet looking grass.

When she turned and looked, the buttermilk dun Hates Clovers had come to know was lying on the grass.

Shaking as if she were ridding herself of late summer flies, Hates Clovers knew this was a sign. If her Horse Sense was worth any salt, her future was bound to be interesting. Keeping close to Snow Mask, the perlino dun stepped closer to her herd-sister and returned to crop grass. As surely as the seasons changed, her life was going to be different. Hates Clovers could almost scent it.

Snow Mask didn't wake up until almost dark. The down mare picked her head up, stood up, then shook herself. Snow Mask looked around her, saw the herd getting ready to hunker down for the night. The buttermilk dun shook herself again, then turned and saw Hates Clovers, the perlino dun almost glowing in the light from the setting sun.

'We'll be moving tomorrow,' Hates Clovers said. 'The Stallion said it while you were sleeping earlier.'

'Why do I feel like this is a bad thing?' Snow Mask said as she cropped a mouth full of early wild flowers.

Hates Clovers just looked at her herd-sister. Taking another bite of grass, the perlino dun shook herself. 'I hope you're wrong.'

True to the Stallion's words, as soon as the dawn light crested the hills surrounding their glen, the herd headed out. The Stallion led the way through the woods, picking carefully along the high paths of the mountain goats when they left the treeline. Once around the other side of the mountain, the horses and ponies carefully picked their way down into some thick woods. Worried wickers traveled through the herd.

Looking at Hates Clovers, Snow Mask asked Honey Blossom, 'What's wrong?'

'We're near a Two-legger place,' The other mare responded. 'A village I think.. The Stallion usually waits until the sun goes down a little so the light under the trees plays tricks.'

Snow Mask looked back to Hates Clovers. The herd was spreading out, but still kept close to each other. Making their way a little further from the rest, the two mares alternated look out as they ate some sweet, early flowers amongst the tender spring grasses.

'Pack-sister!'

Snow Mask picked her head up, chewing a mouthfull of grass., ears swiveling around to pinpoint the sound. A rustling in the grass had the two mares turning to see a dog limp out, holding a paw up that was terribly swollen. He was still slowly wagging his tail in joy to find her, clearly being a young dog with such hope.

The horse looked down at the paw, then back up at the dog's face. 'How did you manage such an isolated injury,pack- brother?'

The dog had the sense to look abashed, and rather ashamed of how he had received it. 'I had found a nice patch of sunshine, and it was a little to close to the road. I must have rolled over in my sleep or something, but a wagon ran over me.' The poor pup whined.

Taking pity, Snow Mask stepped towards the dog, a hound or tracking dog of some kind is what the mare thought he was, what with his long ears. The hope in his eyes as she stepped forward, the hound started wagging harder, and almost fell over. Hates Clovers snorted in amusement as she kept watch, ears swiveling to catch the smallest noises, making sure that nothing was coming.

'Easy there,' Snow Mask said as she took another step forward and touched her muzzle to the hound's head.

Copper fire flew through the connection, and it told her that, indeed, the dog's foot was crushed. Fire burned out the infection that had set in and turned to pull all the fragments of bone together back into one. More fire bound the bone fragments together, before turning to the ligaments and tendons; repairing them back to new from the shredded, crushed mess they had been before. After fixing the tears in the muscles, Snow Mask opened her eyes to see the dog lick her face before bounding over to an astonished looking Two-legger boy.

Surprised, Snow Mask huffed, nostrils flaring. Hates Clovers was somewhat in front of her, telling the Two-legger boy off any way she could without making much noise. Huffing in alarm, Snow Mask whirled around and darted back into the deep woods, her herd-sister following close on her haunches.

They praised The Horse Lords as the sun set behind the mountain when they reached their herd, casting deep shadows under the canopy. The Stallion set a quick pace through the trees, the startled mares knew it would be dangerous to go much faster, but they would have liked to run instead of trot, but the danger was known to them; the two dun mares hadn't told the rest of the herd. They were leaving the area, so what was the danger?

Snow Mask grabbed every mouthfull of anything she could reach at the pace the Stallion was setting. Her Perlino herd-sister noticed after the other dun started to drop back in the herd. When Hates Clovers reached Snow Mask, she bumped the other mare to get her focused.

'What's wrong with you?' the perlino dun asked. 'You look exhausted!'

'I dunno,' Snow Mask replied, chewing a large crop of grass. 'It may have been the healing I did.'

'How did you know to do that?' Hates Clovers said as she cropped a mouthfull of early wildflowers with her herd-sister. 'Were you taught?'

Snow Mask had a flash of brown eyes, swearing in a language she didn't know that she knew had to do with fixing his hair; 'Magelet?', brown eyes, purple eyes, regretful blue eyes, hazel eyes—The buttermilk dun shook her head, then braced herself as the action nearly made her fall over.

'I think my Mate did,' Snow Mask said slowly. The dun mare cropped another mouthfull of grass, and began trotting again. 'I don't understand though.'

'You didn't start with the herd,' the other dun mare said. 'You weren't born to the herd. You came from Outside.'

'Yeah,' Snow Mask. 'It's from Before; I can taste it."

Her dun companion looked at her as the herd slowed down, the Stallion feeling the distance was safe. Hates Clovers watched as Snow Mask ate everything she could reach , and moved further when she had cropped everything to the level of the new spring grass.

'Hungry?' Hates Clovers said with a smile.

Snow Mask just chuffed as she finished her mouthful. 'Tired now.'

'Rest,' Hates Clovers told her herd-sister. 'I'll wake you if the Stallion moves us.'

Snow Mask whickered agreement, and fell asleep to a dream with an injured otter and those kind, smiling brown eyes, concern coloring them. 'Daine? Is something the matter?'...'I've found an otter with a broken leg'...'You'll go deep, but into your patient instead of yourself." The dream continued with a strange clarity, almost as if she'd lived it.

Little did the herd know, but a boy, on the verge of manhood, was telling tales about how the Horse Goddess had healed his hound that was the most promising dog in his kennel. Many of them scoffed, having had too much to drink after a rough day working, but the few that weren't too far gone beckoned the boy over to get more information. Horses brought good money at the Fair in Cría, and the village could always use a little extra gold. The only constant of their winters were that they came every year. Sometimes they were mild, which probably would have been severe in other places of the realm, but when winter was severe in the mountains, the season typically lasted five or sometimes six months instead of four.

Catching wild horses, though, was not an easy task; especially with an old stallion leading the group. The men, with the help of the boy, started planning.

Snow Mask's dream changed...

"I need to ask a favor of you."

Daine set her teacup down. Now that she was weaning Sarralyn, she could enjoy it almost as much as she had before she had got with child. The statement, for kings did not ask their subjects if they wanted to do a task, was expected. Not that Jon, or Thayet, would ever force someone into something they couldn't accomplish. It didn't mean that she wanted to do it, though.

"What is it?"The wildmage politely asked.

"I need information and Numair can't be in two places at once," Jon started, pausing, a wistful expression briefly crossing his face as if he wished Numair was able to do so. If it was possible for him to do that, she'd be first in line. "I need you to scout our border at Galla."

Galla; the place brought up bad memories for her. Frowning, she took another sip of tea. She could have stayed in Snowsdale. Gods know, Hakkon Falconer had spoken to her mother about her once or twice. Gods knows his falcons had loved her. Instead, after the fire and her madness, she had packed a rucksack with what she could, went to Cría, had adventures and got married. Returning home was the last thing that had ever crossed her mind.

"Sarralyn is still young," Daine started, trying to think of a way to get out of it.

"Thayet has offered to care for her."

"Oh?"

Jon sighed. "There have been complaints near the border of Galla," the king continued. "I can't trust my fief lords to tell me the truth." A dark frown crossed his face. "I don't believe I've had the truth from them in a great long time."

"You do know it's fall and I may not be able to get back till spring?"

"Your magic was taken into consideration—"

"Magic don't do no good during a blizzard!"

"Doesn't do any good, Magelet," came a tired reply from the door.

Daine turned to see her husband standing in the doorway probably feeling as tired as he looked. The king had been sending him to all over Tortall scouting while George's network brought in more information. She considered Jon's request while Numair gave his report. She didn't want to do it, and kept mulling over the king's request. Daine knew that if she didn't go, Numair would probably be sent. She kept coming back to one thing that Numair had told her years ago: the black robe mage passionately hated the cold.

Daine sighed. Both men stopped talking.

"I'll do it, Jon," the wildmage said, refilling her tea. "I'll scout up North."

Numair gave Jon a Look.

Daine smiled, sipping her tea, as Numair returned his attention to Jon; this would be an interesting conversation...

...the Dream continued.

It was finally fully spring; the second spring for Snow Mask with this herd, and the Stallion's lordship over the herd was being contested. A young, leggy dapple grey was contesting their king, an older sorrel. He was very handsome, his dark dapple coloring Snow Mask hadn't seen before. She whickered, confused. She had never thought like that about any of her herd members before. She watched along with the rest of the herd, most of which had delivered their foals already. They nursed as their mothers watched as their Stallion battled with the Challenger.

The Stallion trumpeted his anger at the situation. 'How dare you!,' he cried. 'How dare you, Young Upstart, dare think to take his herd? I fought hard for years to steal and battle for my wonderful mares!'

The Challenger neighed his disdain, calling their Stallion out. 'And what am I doing?' the Challenger called. 'How dare you call me out for what you yourself, a King Stallion, had once done in my same position? How dare you judge!'

They fought for two days, barely breaking apart to relieve themselves and drink some water from a nearby stream. When the Challenger kicked the Stallion in the side, knocking the wind out of the older pony, there was a reverberating crack throughout the clearing. The mares whickered at the crack, knowing their Stallion wasn't going to win. The Challenger bit at the Stallions neck, and the protests he put up couldn't dislodge him. It wasn't too much longer that the Stallion left to the Divine Realms, and the Challenger became their Stallion.

He reared, proclaiming to all, that he was victorious and owned a herd now. Hooves pawing at the air, he landed with a huff; shaking out his mane. The mares of the herd trotted forward to greet their new Stallion and introduce their foals. He politely greeted them and accepted their foals; he had every right to kill them and the mares were happy that he didn't, and had accepted them as his instead.

She looked on, watching the foals play as the Stallion mounted some of the mares that had older foals that were close to season. It was when he was about to mount another mare that he saw her. He gave the mare platitudes before moving off to her.

'How pretty you are', he told her as he showed off for her; prancing around her. 'Would you like me to show you what I think of you?'

She snorted as he rubbed his head along her back. 'No.'

He froze, surprised. She flicked him with her tail and trotted away to the other side of the field. He watched her go, surprised at the denial. No mare had ever denied him, even when he was a thief mounting mares of herds not his own. He snorted and went back to the mare he had left to see her. She more than welcomed him.

When he had finished, he looked across the clearing at the two mares there. Both would eventually warm up to him. By the Horse Lords, he would have them. Excusing himself, the dapple stallion moved on to the next mare.

Snow Mask looked up, ears swiveling around. She thought she had heard something. Looking at the herd, she saw their Stallion mounting another mare who she knew was in season and prone to throwing twins. Snorting, the dun turned her attention to the forest around her. She thought she saw something move, but when she looked closer, there was only disturbed flora.

Shaking the odd feeling of being watched off, she went back to her clover patch, unaware that someone was running through the woods back to their own family.

The hound had raced through the woods. They were so close! They'd been traveling for days; the men and his boy and him, and the horse herd had been found! He broke through the underbrush and bolted to his boy, and, gently grabbing at his pants with his teeth, began to pull. It was so hard not to declare he'd found them, he couldn't help the whines that escaped his muzzle. He wished he could bay, oh how he wished!, but it would alert the herd of horses and She that had healed him. His boy was very adamant about surprising her to thank.

"Show me, Yella," his boy said, and the hound turned back unto the woods; his boy on his heels. His black muzzle went back to the ground, making sure he was on the right track, before he took off down a deer trail. When Yella made it to the clearing, deep tan sides heaving, the dog gave his boy a big smile.

The boy was still amazed at the herd of horses. The handful of duns and dapples in the herd were truly breathtaking, and the fact it was mixed with a few hardy mountain ponies was strange; like two herds were dependent on each other and just mashed into one. Many of their lines were almost perfection, bless the Horse Lords for creating these creatures.

Giving Weiryn a brief prayer that their quarry would still be where they were, the boy returned to the men at camp, his cur-hound at his heals prancing. "Good boy," he praised and patted the dog's head. When he broke through the treeline, giant smile on his face, the other men from the village knew the dog had been successful. The men grabbed ropes and burlap, long lines and blankets. When the boy took them to the clearing where his cur-hound had found the horses, they retreated back a bit in the woods and strung the ropes through the trees and slung the blankets over the lines. The men spread out along the line, surrounding the clearing the horses and ponies were grazing in, holding loose ropes in their hands.

The boy, getting an uneasy feeling, headed back to the clearing. Someone needed to watch the camp afterall;dinner wouldn't make itself.

What the boy didn't know though, were the guys that sometimes helped the village out, were bandits most of the year. They stole, sold and misdirected the authorities off their trail most of the year, and worked in the village during the most important planting and harvesting seasons.

They were still bandits, and somewhat cruel due to that lifestyle.

As the sun began its descent to darkness, the men took their places around the glen.

Veralidaine Salmalin, known simply as Daine to her friends, glanced up from reading an anatomy book on reptiles when she heard the door open. She had come in early from her duties when the cold came with the dark. Winter was going to be early this year. She smiled in her reading as her husband closed the door with a soft swear. Numair Salmalin removed a heavy cloak and shook himself, immediately coming towards her as she had moved both their sitting chairs nearer the fire where she was laying on the hearth rug. Sitting down in the chair he usually claimed, the tall man sighed.

Marking her place before looking up and closing her book, the wildmage looked at her husband. He was holding his head in his hands the way he used to during the war. Curious, Daine sat up and scooted over to where the black mage was sitting. Resting her head on his knee, she frowned when the action made him jump.

"What's got you so in your head, Numair?" she asked, tucking a loose curl behind her ear that had escaped her headscarf. Numair snorted and pulled his hands down his face only enough so when he spread his fingers, he could see her. Daine smiled at his antics before reaching up and taking his hands in her own to bare his face. Numair smiled and sighed

"I had a meeting with George and Jon tonight," Numair replied. He sighed, running his hands through his hair before down his face. Giving her a tired, smile, Numair took one of her hands before saying, "there are some troubling reports coming out of the North."

"Troubling?" Daine asked.

Before Numair could respond, a loud wail echoed through their rooms, making the mage wince. Daine smiled at Numair's discomfort and put out look. Standing up, Daine patted imaginary dust off her breeches before heading towards their bedroom. "Sarralyn's up and prob'ly wants a feed."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Daine gave him a loving smile as she teased, "Never saw it coming?"

Numair's expressing grew wicked as they entered the bedroom. "Well, there was this blonde—"

Daine threw a pillow at his face before he could finish his sentence and grabbed Sarralyn so he couldn't' retaliate. Smiling at Numair, who was holding the thrown pillow with a betrayed look on his face, she turned her attention to their daughter.

Numair smiled, treasuring the moment he'd never thought he'd have. His smile faded, thinking about what George had told them as Daine tidied Sarralyn up and put her back to bed. When it was just the two of them, entwined as they do to fall asleep, assured the other is there, Numair sighed into Daine's hair before softly saying, "There are troubling reports from the North."

"So you've said," his wife whispered back.

Numair ran his fingers along her side, eliciting a delightful shudder from his wife. Trying to keep him focused, Daine grabbed his hand and held it, waiting for her husband to gather his thoughts.

"The reports Jon is getting are nowhere near what George's people are reporting back," the black robe mage finally said.

Daine frowned, absently playing with Numair's fingers. That wasn't good. Discrepancies were never good. "So's whose reports is right?" she asked, falling into her Gallan drawl. He didn't respond for a while, letting her play with his fingers and just relishing the moment.

Quiet moments like this were new to them. With Daine's life being turned upside down into a war almost from the beginning, and Numair never really leaving one with all the espionage he did for Jon, the two most powerful mages of Tortall relished each chance of peace and quiet in togetherness that they could get.

She didn't fight when he pulled his hand away to rest over her waist.

"That's what they want us to find out."

There was something wrong. Something was very wrong in the woods. The others were grazing with their minds on their pregnancies and their fillies and colts playing around them. With Hates Clovers and Snow Mask constantly denying their stallion's advances, he was sulking on the other side of the glen they were grazing in and not paying attention to the surroundings. Hates Clovers was cropping grass closer to the very pregnant mares to help watch the youngsters, so she probably hadn't picked up on it. Snow Mask picked her head up, chewing her mouthful of grass. Ears swiveling around, she tried to catch the odd noises.

There!

Snow Mask swung her head to the right and came face to face with a surprised pair of blue-hazel eyes. The creature, a two-legger, did something with his hands and something settled over her head. Startled, she threw her head back only to find that her motion was hindered. She reared and screamed, but it only tightened the thing around her neck, bringing her our of her rear and making her buck.

The whole herd froze.

The Stallion looked in her direction.

Hates Clovers whickered a question that she never got to finish. 'Snow Mask? Wha—'

Movement exploded from the edges of the tree line. More two-leggers than she had seen before that had something in their hands that they were throwing over the heads of her herd mates. Their stallion trumpeted a challenge as he chased some of them, dodging the things they threw. He managed to round up most of the herd and take off up the goat trails they had used to get to the clearing. A few youngsters, some mares heavy with foal, Hates Clovers, herself, and a few yearlings were captured.

If they were going to take her, Snow Mask thought to herself, she was not going to go quietly.

The dun screamed a challenge to the two-legger holding her rope and started fighting. She pulled back on what a deep, swimming memory identified as a rope, dragging the two-legger slowly toward her. When all that accomplished was choking her more than ridding herself of her problem, she ran at the two-legger holding the rope.

Something else fell over her head and she reared, trumpeting her displeasure, only to find that she couldn't. Her head was being held down!

'No!' she cried. 'I'm not going with you!'

The two-leggers and her herd mates alike were startled when birds started diving at all the two-leggers in the area. Squirrels started chattering, raccoons and foxes screamed. Startled insects fell on the two-leggers heads. Terrified, they began to fight in earnest to get the horses calmed and tied; afraid a forest spirit was coming.

One rope loosened.

Hates Clovers was also putting up a fight, but when a second rope looped over her head, she followed Snow Mask's example to fight in earnest. She heard the frightened and confused mutters of the yearlings and youngsters and those only spurred her on. An instinct she didn't know she had drove her to protect those that couldn't protect themselves.

Snow Mask screamed again and before Hates Clovers could see what happened, her sight was suddenly gone. Freezing, momentarily stunned, the brief moment of her indecision was all the two-leggers were looking for. She felt something around her hooves and she kicked out, only to find herself on the ground. She neighed her defeat.

'We can't win this, Snow,' Hates Clovers called between heavy breaths.

'I will not give up!' Snow Mask bit back. She heard a two-legger curse.

Hates Clover's sight was suddenly returned. She had something around her face and her hooves were still cobbled. She glanced over at Snow Mask to see her sides streaked with sweat, her hooves also cobbled. Hates Clovers watched as two-leggers kept trying to put the same thing around her face, but Snow Mask would bite or try to if another two-legger yanked on the lone rope still around her neck. They had lost control of the second. When a third rope looped around Hates Clovers' herd-sister mid rear and pulled, it allowed another Two-legger to grab the dangling rope. With Snow Mask's head under control, a Two-legger thought it'd be safe enough to blind her as one had done to Hates Clovers in order to hobble the buttermilk dun mare.

As soon as one of them got close enough, Snow Mask viciously kicked out, sending the hapless Two-legger flying.

This angered the other Two-leggers, and now more were coming over to try and tame her. The birds and other wildlife that had been hindering the Two-leggers stopped, as if waiting for instructions. Hates Clovers watched as, as Snow Mask picked up her hooves to try and fight the ropes around her neck, other Two-leggers were trying to loop her hooves. One of the Two-leggers were finally successful.

Snow Mask went down, but quickly picked herself back up.

She would try to kick only to find herself on the ground breathing hard and getting up as fast as possible before the two-leggers could put the contraption on.

Hates Clovers felt something run down her neck and startled, only to see a Two-legger petting her. His lips moved, but she was too worried and tired to make out what he was saying. A hard pat had the Two-legger with all her attention.

"Soon as she gets tired, we'll be taking y'all back ta th' village," he was saying. "Fair in Cria's over, but village needs th' money. I'm fair sorry you was mixed up. Pro'bly go next year." He cooed over her coat colour. "Yer such a pretty thing."

Well, flatterer, Hates Clover thought. At least he could appreciate her. The palomino mare watched as her dun counterpart fought through the birds that had continued to fight, almost seemingly directing them at the two-leggers. When that didn't seem to work, she charged them herself, fell, then hauled herself to her hooves as if it were one motion, flanks starting to heave.

It took a while before Snow Mask tired out. The two-leggers just let her fight until there wasn't any more left. Her flanks were soaked with sweat and she was covered in all matter of detritus one can find on the forest floor; there were leaves and sticks in her mane, mud and dirt all over her coat, and grass and loam stuck to that. As Snow Mask finally submitted, she was directed by the Two-leggers using the many ropes around her neck. As they walked by her, Hates Clover's caught a sight of burrs in her tail.

The other forest creatures watched from their hiding places, disappointed they couldn't have helped the horses to freedom, muttering amongst themselves.

"Wanna see if she'll take a bit and saddle?" one of the two-leggers proposed as they walked down a deer path. He was leading Honey Blossom's twins, Hollyhocks and Dandelion, yearling stallions she had had the year previous. "She's tired enough. May get more money for 'er other than just her color."

It didn't take long to return to the two-leggers' camp where some horses and pack ponies were picketed. They gave the newcomers an eye over, not knowing the sense of freedom that had just been taken away from them, stable bred as they were. Soft greetings whickered around the camp. The youngsters flocked over to them, needing the reassurances older horses naturally provided. The mares with foal happy to have some feed.

Hates Clover watched as a two-legger threw a blanket and saddle over Snow Mask, not even bothering to remove the dirt and detritus from her coat. The filthy mare didn't notice the weight of the saddle with how hard her breathing was and how tired from the fight she had put up. Snow Mask did notice when the girth strap was tightened. Hates Clovers watched as with every tired breath Snow Mask took, the two-legger tightened it.

When it was decided the saddle was tight enough, a brave two-legger grabbed the pommel and the cantle before jumping up and seating himself in the seat of the saddle proper. Snow Mask stood for a minute, expression blank. When the two-legger repositioned himself and dug his heals into her sides, Snow Mask exploded into action.

Bucking and twirling, Snow Mask threw the two-legger from her back almost as fast as he had seated himself on her. With the other two-leggers laughing at their unlucky companion, he picked himself up, swearing all the while as he rummaged through the horse supplies, coming up victorious with a bridle that had a cruel looking bit.

"Le's see how ya take a bit, lass," he said as two other two-leggers made for Snow Mask's head. Between them, another volunteer and tying her ropes around a tree, the two-leggers managed to get a halter and bit in her mouth. The cold metal distracted her as yet another two-legger jumped into the saddle. She noticed when he yanked on the reins, jamming the bit into the soft tissue of her mouth and pinched her sensitive tongue. Screaming, Snow Mask reared, bucking and twisting; galloping only to suddenly change directions.

She finally threw him, spinning as she bucked.

Chest heaving, the mare gave the rider a dirty look as she flicked her tail, foam and spittle running down her neck in great globules from the bit she was chewing; trying to displace it to find some comfort.

The night continued on like that; the two-leggers forcing the other horses to watch as they broke their most spirited herd mate; a warning what would happen should they fight. Hates Clovers and Hollyhocks put up a token protest when the two-leggers placed a saddle on their backs and girth straps tightened, but calmed when they threatened the same bit and treatment as their herd mate was experiencing. Hollyhocks threw his first rider just because.

Snow Mask still fought the servitude.

Dawn was breaking by the time the two-leggers could finally ride Snow Mask calmly around their camp. The mare was still quite spirited, the two-leggers having to resort to full tack with a tie down, throat latch and breast band, never giving the spirited animal a chance for her head to take control. They had had to lash a spare rein around her delicate nose so she couldn't spit out the bit, which they had had to change twice during the procedure.

Hollyhocks, Dandelion and Hates Clovers kept their spirit as they resigned themselves to saddles and two-leggers on their backs. They watched as the two-leggers removed their tack, brushed them down, and went to sleep in their bed rolls. The two-leggers that had tried to ride Snow Mask just picketed and hobbled her to a nearby tree; leaving all the tack on and her face still tied up.

'You should have just given in,' a bay picketed pony responded. 'My ma watched my da put up a fight like you.'

'Oh?' Snow Mask responded.

'I'm Gossham,' the bay replied, obviously changing the subject with an uncomfortable shake. Hollyhocks and Hates Clovers replied in kind as Snow Mask blew hard and tried to catch her breath. Dandelion did his best to ignore everything and try to fall asleep. 'You'd wish you were caught in time for the Fair. You all would'a been lucky being going to the Fair and all.'

'They mentioned that,' Hollyhocks said as he cropped some nearby grass.

Snow Mask tried to keep up with the conversation, but she was exhausted, and fell asleep before the ponies finished regaling her herd mates with stories.

The next morning, Snow Mask was strung behind Hates Clovers who was tied to a Two-legger horse as the bandits led them to wherever they were taking them. It was in the morning that Snow Mask and Hates Clovers recognized the dog and his boy amongst all the packing that was going on.

'YOU!' Snow Mask spat with as much venom as she could with her face still tied up. The hound, at least, had the decency to look abashed. 'I heal you and this is how you repay me?! With my freedom being taken away!? SERVITUDE?!'

A sharp smack across her sensitive nose had Snow Mask reeling with a sharp shriek of pain.

'Stay calm,' Hate Clovers admonished, giving the two-legger that switched Snow Mask a dirty look. 'You'll only bring yourself trouble.'

The other mare gave a disbelieving snort, but behaved. This reprimand didn't go unnoticed by the two-leggers. They noticed how the perlino mare kept the pretty buttermilk dun under control. Who, other than patrons of the Cría Fair, would take two horses at once? At least their village could make use of the animals until then.

The two-leggers camped another night, picketing and hobbling the horses for the night. Snow Mask was starting to hate the rein tied about her muzzle. She would consider behaving if it were removed. Maybe. She was getting hungry, and had been thirsty since midday. Maybe...

She slept poorly that night, dreams of ravens and letters running through her mind, and when the sun came up, she was again strung with Hates Clovers as the bandits led on to wherever they were going. In the late afternoon, they stopped at a large body of water.

"Bogul Lake," one of the Two-leggers said. "Nev'r thought I'd be so happy ta see it."

Another nodded. "Has been quite an adventure, that."

They all nodded.

They paused long enough to let all the horses drink, even unlashing Snow Mask's muzzle to allow her to drink as much water as she wanted. Before she wanted to be done, the dun was again strung up to Hates Clovers as the Two-leggers drove through the rest of the afternoon, into the evening, and as dusk started to settle around them, some of the horses became antsy that they kept on.

'It's not much farther,' the damned hound cautiously spoke up. 'The village is on the other end of the lake.'

Snow Mask blew harshly at him.

The other horses were grateful when the hound's words proved true. They were ushered into a corral, hobbled, Snow Mask's saddle and tack removed, and left for the rest of the night as the Two-leggers went to their own barns to sleep. Lowering their heads, the once wild horses did the same.

Snow Mask woke to a small face studying her.

The mare blinked, whickered, and the face smiled and giggle. Hates Clovers, woken by the giggle, turned over and took a deep breath; taking in the child's scent. She reached up, patting their soft noses, and the two mares whickered in delight.

'So pretty,' the horses heard in a small, soft voice.

"Birgit!"

The two horses stepped over the child, the noise startling them into protecting the small two-legger. A two-legger was running towards the corral, several others behind him. The two mares put their ears back.

"Da!"

"Birgit! Back away slowly. Those two are the Herd Bosses. The handlers have been telling tales 'bout them two!" The two-legger was telling his daughter. He apparently thought they were dangerous.

"Da, they're nice!" The girl said with a pout as, she reached out and patted Snow Mask's leg. The man blanched as the mare dropped her head, fearing the worst, but only allowed the girl to pet her. One of the two-leggers that had helped to capture her came near the fence. She laid her ears down and made to bite him. "Stop that!" the girl, Birgit, admonished with a light smack on her knee.

Snow Mask looked down at the girl, disbelieving that such a small two-legger would make to dominate them.

'If we let her do whatever she wants,' Hates Clovers started, 'I'm sure we'll be able to chase away every other two-legger on favor alone.'

'Very true,' Snow Mask agreed.

"She has them eating out of her hand," one of the bandits said.

"Aye, Rook Daemonsra, she do," Birgit's father, Ovar Admonsra, said. The two men watched as the two practically wild horses allowed a girl to do whatever with them she wanted.

"I s'pose it'll add to their value an' marketing ta be good with children," Rook finally said as he plucked a shoot of timothy-hay to chew on. The other village men that had gone with Rook on the raid were carefully removing the hobbles they had placed on the horses the previous night, cautious to avoid the attention of either Hates Clovers but especially Snow Mask. When all the horses, they hadn't managed to catch any ponies, had received halters and had their cobbles removed, the hands turned to Birgit.

"Yer horses be the only ones with cobbles, miss," one of the bandits, Cliffe, pointed out.

Birgit looked at her horses. "D'ya mind letting him undo your hobbles? I'd do it m'self but I dunno th' knots."

The two horses looked at each other before looking in the opposite direction. The girl smiled and looked at the handler.

"They don't mind."

Cliffe carefully stepped closer, only going as close to the mares as he had to to undo the hobbles. When they were free of them, the two mares tested each step before doing a lap around the corral and coming back to prance in front of Birgit.

"Looks like you have two horses to help with your chores this summer, Birdie," her father said as he leaned on the fencing to the corral. "We'll be selling them at the Fair, but you can train them over the seasons 'til then."

"Thank you, Da!" Birgit gushed as she ran to the shed by the corral and came back with a bucket of brushes and combs. "I'd better get to work then!"

Her father and the rest laughed. Rook and Cliffe took the mares heavy with foal out of the corral; one mare's water having broke. The two were taken to a small pasture where it looked like they kept foaling mares; there was already a mare who had a new foal in the enclosure and two more that were heavily pregnant.

The hands also removed Dandelion and Hollyhocks. The two colts complained, and Dandelion reared in fright, but Hollyhocks calmed him down enough to be led to another where yearlings were kept. There was a king stallion penned between the foaling corral and the yearling one. He seemed to like the goings on.

The rest of the mares, Hates Clovers and Snow Mask, stood their turn as Birgit groomed them and Cliffe groomed the other mares. He didn't seem particularly keen on being anywhere near them, and was more than happy to let the girl see to them. The mares got to frolic and do as they will for the rest of the day.

What they didn't realize, was that, while they were playing, the Two-leggers were assessing them.

The buttermilk dun screamed as she tried to rear, managing about halfway with how the three village men were holding the leads attached to her halter. She still fought like the wild creature she had been; a day of resting not taking it away. The men were about to drag her to a tree to try and hobble her when a human shriek rent the air.

"NO!"

They turned to look, and Birgit was racing towards them. She had recently woke if her disheveled appearance was anything to go by. She was making a be-line for the enraged mare.

"Birdie, NO!"

But Birgit had already run up to the horse and grabbed her halter when she was down from a rear. "Calm down, girl," Birdie admonished. "Yer jus' goin' ta get hurt fightin'."

'That's what I told you,' A voice she didn't recognize said.

'I suppose, but only for you,' The angry mare seemed to tell her.

Birgit dared to breathe as she untied the ropes from around her neck. The mare stood just stood there. She undid the ropes from her halter. The mare whickered at her and just stood. Cliffe, one of the men trying to lead the enraged mare, stepped forward only to quickly backstep when she put her ears back, and pawed at the ground, clearly threatening. When he made to go to the other mare, she neighed and took a step forward, lowering her head.

Cliffe wisely retreated.

He spoke amongst the other village guys that helped to handle the horses. Cliffe returned to Birgit. "No one wants ta handl' them mares," He told the girl. "You get to care for 'em, train 'em, b'fore we take'm to the fair in Cría come spring."

"But—" Birgit tried to argue.

"No," Cliffe cut her off. "We caught these to sell, an' it took us longer than we wanted. We'll have ta buy some hay n' grain for 'em for the winter as it is."

"Fine," Birgit said, upset that she couldn't keep the two horses.

Cliffe sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Dunno if they'll let ya saddle 'em, but they'd bring more coin if ya can get em to pull a cart or take a saddle."

Birgit sighed, "I'll do m'best."

"Good," Cliffe nodded. "Now, I was gonna do their feet. Lemme show ya how ta do it so ya can do it yerself since they like none o' us."

Birgit nodded and as Cliffe explained how he wanted her to lift their feet so he could check to see if their were rocks stuck in them. It took a while, as the horses didn't know what they were doing, but they finished with the perlino dun and stopped to take a break before starting on the buttermilk dun. Cliffe motioned towards the horses with his wooden cup and asked Birgit a question that she hadn't thought of.

"Are ya gonna name 'em?"

Birgit looked up to the barn hand as she took a drink of her water. "Why should I if they jus' gonna get sold?"

Cliffe took another drink of his water, watching as the two mares interacted with each other and tried to crop the grass they couldn't quite reach.

"It'll help ya with trainin' 'em," the man said. "An' it'll help ya sell 'em at th' Fair."

"Da said I could go?!" Birigt exclaimed, nearly dropping her water.

Cliffe smiled at her. "With how none o' us can werk with 'em, I told yer Da that you could pro'lly sell 'em better'n any o' us," he drawled. "Ya gotta werk with 'em though. Them two needs lots o' it."

Birgit smiled as she took another drink of her water. She was going to the Fair! Her excitement turned shortly to apprehension, though. She'd never been to the Fair, let alone sold an animal. She glanced back to Cliffe who finished his water and set his cup by the bucket they'd ladled water out of. As if sensing her discomfort, the barn hand smiled and ruffled her hair, making Birgit give an indignant squawk.

"I know ya haven't done this a'fore, so I'm gonna teach ya everythin' I know about it," Cliffe told her with a smile. "Dunno if yer Da'd approve."

"So yer jus' teachin' me how ta work with my horses," she said with a smile as Cliffe grabbed his tools and Birgit went over to the buttermilk dun to get the mare to lift her front hoof to be picked out.

"S'pose tha's not a lie," Cliffe said with a smile as he sat on a stool to look at the hoof Birgit was holding.

No one in the village could image the plan that Birgit was crafting as Cliffe taught her everything he knew about training, handling, and finding points and faults in a horses structure; how which point brought more coin, and which fault could make a seemingly great horse worth almost nothing. No one knew, not even Cliffe that as the months turned to summer, and summer into fall, that Birgit's crafting solidified, and ideas turned solid. As winter blew in, Birgit ironed out the fine details of her plan. As soon as the first glimpses of spring hit the passes, before the early spring snows hit...

Birgit had a plan.

posted 21May2019