No clue where this came from. Hope you enjoy anyway.

Angharrad.

The thought comes as I carry the Girl Colt – Viola. I nicker. "Acorn." She replies. – further towards the camp of the army, the soldiers' burdened thoughts carrying towards us.

Fire. Fire? FIRE! What was that? Will I see my wife again? My baby son, so small. My daughter. Safe, God, please keep them safe. Will we survive? JOHN! John? Where are you? You can't be dead, not yet.

All filtering down to one thing: War makes any sort of peacetime look like paradise.

Angharrad. I think, beacause I know she's close, she was fighting with the Boy Colt – Todd. "Nearly there, boy." Viola whipsers – Todd who worked with the Boy Colt who didn't like being called that and who called me Deadfall to others but called me Acorn when we were alone and the one who was shot by his own father - Davy. "I'm sorry, Acorn." As she hears my grief, because he was good – Viola. Todd. Davy. Angharrad.

Angharrad who I've known since we were just colts ourselves, growing up on a farm in Haven with a kind farmer before we were taken away to be war horses.

We stop in front of a clump of soldiers, who begin to argue uselessly with the Girl Colt. I remember her injuries, her mending but still broken ankles, as soldiers crowd and I buck a little, trying to keep them away to stop her from hurting.

"TODD!"

Submit!

"TODD!"

Submit!

SUBMIT!

"Let her go." That voice. So cold and hard. The voice that can fake happiness and concern. The voice of the man who shot Boy Colt (Davy-).

The shouting and grabbing of Girl Colt stops, reminding me of Morpeth (submit-) who all the other horses in the stable were afraid of.

Girl Colt and The Man talk for a minute, before Boy Colt arrives and releaves me of Girl Colt's weight. Their warmth and love reminds me again of my own love (Angharrad).

"Angharrad." I say aloud when Boy and Girl Colt are walking a little ways away from where we're tied up.

Angharrad stays silent. Her head is tipped downwards to the dirt of the camp floor, her eyes half-closed and unseeing.

Angharrad?

I see the bandage wrapped around her back leg, and lower my head to nuzzle it to try and make everything better for her.

I turn to look at an especially noisy pack of soldiers. But my attention isn't held by them for long, because I hear-

Just faintly-

acorn

Right in the back of her inner voice.

I neigh softly.

Then I settle next to her, protecting her from the hostile looking soldiers, trying to keep her warm.

Angharrad. I lick her cheek, nestling closer.

acorn

And I wait.

Wait for her to return to me.

However long it may take.