omma, when will we get there?” Wound can see the mahogany curve of her daughter’s back ahead of her in the trail, still within sight but dancing across the line of discomfort. She knows Wishbone is excited to see more of Beqanna — it’s obvious in the way her daughter darts ahead to investigate fallen trees and skittering rabbits and foreign scents found along the trail. Wound has no doubt the stardust girl will find many adventures in her life, as if she hasn’t found any so far.

The heat of the summer sun is scattered by the array of leaves that shield the trail leading between a thin forest before they reach the Field. “Come here, my love,” Wound calls as they reach the treeline. They are here to find those who might be scared or lonely and offer them reassurance and family born from different loins. Although Wishbone is a flaming shooting star, Wound also believes it is important to harness her daughter’s strengths and teach her patience.

“Wishbone, this is the Field. It is important that you don’t say anything rude. We’re here to meet someone new and maybe see if they want to live in Tephra with us.” A faint memory flickers in the back of Wound’s mind — Femur’s fanged face showing up to greet the silver bay when her nerves still plagued her and her heart was wandering. “This is where I met Femur, after all.” She’s told Wishbone stories of her friend, and the mother of Wishbone’s playmates.

“Now, follow me. And do not wander.” With a twist of her ears, Wound leads her daughter into the clearing of the Field. She keeps her eyes open for anyone not engaged in conversation, though most of them are. She begins to give up hope until she turns and notices Wishbone approaching a bright red mare (though there is a question to that word, with the girl’s bushy tail and triangular ears) with a wide, vibrant grin on her face.

“Hiya! I’m Wishbone. What’s your name? How did you get your tail? And what about your paws?” The girl is a hazardous toss of bravery and Mother Earth, with her growing mane already twisted in knots and her knees scraped from her recent expeditions. Although Wishbone finds security within the borders of Tephra, there is no denying she does not feel frightened in the face of a foreigner. Wound begins to quickly limp over, coffee-brown eyes already apologetic.

ishbone decides she likes this fox-girl very much. Tephra holds quite a few interestingly-gifted members — her own father has wings, some of them can heal with fire, her playmates’ father can shift into a blue wolf — but none of them are as cool as this girl. “I love your tail!” They are similar creatures, practically vibrating with energy and dancing around each other to the song of Mother Earth.

By this time, Wound has reached the pair. She’s about to scold Wishbone before carefully asking about the fox-girl when she bounces forward with her own plethora of questions, tail whipping behind her. Although Siona’s mouth holds sharp canines, Wound is not concerned with either her personal or her daughter’s safety.

“I’ll be able to help you.” The silver bay’s smile is warm. Wishbone quickly scrambles in front of her mother, sunset eyes wild with excitement at finding a new friend in a new place. “This is my mom and her name is Wound! You’re in the Field.” The mahogany girl beams with pride at explaining the situation, and Wound gently touches her daughter’s shoulder in an attempt to calm her.

It works, as it always does, when she pushes a soft breath of air across the slope of Wishbone’s shoulder and along her slender neck. The girl settles down alongside her mother, tangled knots of her growing forelock dancing along her forehead. “Are you looking for a home, Siona?” Wound’s eyes are pleasant — they are the eyes of a mother — as she looks down at the girl, curious to her answer.