“Oh,” I say, and it’s hard to keep the relief from my voice, “Oh okay. I’m glad it’s a good size.” I can only hope that the other amres are as excited about the prospect of a new member as I am. I imagine that after a while telling the same old stories must grow old. Or do they not tell stories? I’m not entirely sure what they get up to while I’m gone, actually. It’s an interesting thought.

“It’s this way,” I say, gesturing toward the south with my horned head, “I’ll show you.”

As we walk, I point out other places, the paths to other lands. I’m not sure if she’s familiar with Beqanna and decide that extra information can bring no harm.

When we arrive in the canyon that the Orange Country is mainly in I stop, having rounded the bend in the limestone that reveals the greenery of the herdland. “What do you think?” I ask, torn between looking for the other mares and wanting to see Sloene’s reaction to the place. Everyone that I’ve brought here has seemed to be in awe, and it is nice to have that reassurance that the place I chose as a home is beautiful as well as suitable.