The spring sunshine is almost too warm, and I enjoy the cool breeze that ruffles my pale mane as I make my way through the Field. It is not so crowded as it sometimes is, but I notice that the majority of the mares have foals at their sides. Most are already engaged in conversation, but as I look across the Field I see a lone mare, her pale coat almost a beacon among the bright spring grasses.

I approach her slowly, well aware of my imposing size, and settle a comfortable distance away from her as I nod my head in greeting. I’ve stopped close enough for us to carry on a conversation, but hopefully not close enough to make her feel as though I am trying to crowd her.

“Hello there,” I say with a genuine smile, my tenor voice surprisingly soft for a stallion of my size. “My name is Kreios. What’s yours?”

The pale mare seems friendly enough, but there is a roughness to her voice, and I wonder how long it has been since she had last spoken aloud. It is a long journey to Beqanna, I know; I too have spent time in the Otherland. Many of the herds I’d come across relied solely on body language to communicate, and while I was as adept at that as any horse, I far prefer the Beqanna Tongue.

There is a rather long pause, and when she stares during it I cannot help but glance down at myself, wondering what it is that she sees. I’m entirely equine today, despite my habit of shifting to cat paws rather than hooves (Iknow it tends to startle newcomers to Beqanna), so I can only assume that there’s something else that has captured her attention. I’m rather large, I know, and my bright smattering of chestnut spots on my pale coat are somewhat unusual, even in this world with horses of every rainbow hue.

“Uhurah,” I repeat. “It’s nice to meet you.” And it is, though even if it were untrue I’d still have said it. Overly polite, perhaps, but I was raised to be properly respectful.

“Are you here to find a home?” I ask, knowing fully where that she probably is. That is why horses come to the Field, after all. “If you are, my kingdom – the Falls – would be glad to have you.”

I wait as she looks around, following her gaze with my own. Is she looking for someone else? Perhaps hoping that there might be another offer of a home? There might be, I think, and perhaps he might be happier in some other place. I find that unlikely though – the Falls has everything that I have ever wanted in a home. It is lush and green with winters that are short and gentle, scattered with broad meadows and dense forests where our handful of kingdom members have more than they need. I know that the question I’ve asked her is an important one, and I am in no hurry, so as she thinks, I reach down and scratch at an itch on my face with one pale foreleg.

When I look up again, she is smiling, and I smile back, clearly pleased.

“It’s no burden at all,” I reply, “I’d not have invited you if it were.” She does not seem reluctant to come with me, but I’m well aware that trusting a strange stallion is often difficult for mares. What guarantee does Uhurah have that I don’t intend to spirit her away to a herd land rather than a kingdom, where I will keep her captive and miserable for years? None at all – though those are far from my true intentions.

“If you don’t like it there, there’s no need to stay. I could escort you back to the Field if the Falls aren’t to your taste, or could show you the other lands of Beqanna as well.” It’s a generous offer, I know, but the idea of wandering around an unfamiliar land is a daunting one – even to me – and if it turns out Uhurah is unhappy in the Falls I’d rather not subject her to undue worry.

“But,” I add with a quick smile, “I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s a wonderful place over this way.” As I speak, I step forward with one pale hoof, clearly heading to the north, where my kingdom lies. “Have you lived in a kingdom before?” I ask, knowing that our hierarchy of lands is sometimes difficult to grasp for strangers. As I speak, I am heading towards the kingdom, assuming that she will follow along as I show the way.