The sense of relief Minette feels is indescribable. It floods her body, leaving her lightheaded. Her hooves fly, an expression of her joy. Even the constant presence of the raven on her shoulder barely dampens her enthusiasm. She resents its intrusion, knowing every word and action of hers may be reported, but there is still freedom in distance from her captor. The raven is not nearly as intimidating as Gryffen.
She spares a moment's dark thought for him, a shiver flying up her spine as she remembers the source of the thick scar above her left eye. The various other wounds the white stallion has inflicted have healed, but are visible in certain lights, concentrated on her neck and shoulders.
Minette finds Beqanna fascinating. The Mountains where she lives is all she has seen of this place, and the amazing creatures she passes make her look like a country girl visiting the city for the first time. She has never seen so many horses in one place. Her muscles ache from disuse as she pulls into a canter, but nothing could induce her to slow. She longs to run faster, but her growing stomach keeps her pace gentle.
The journey to the Meadow is a pleasant one. The place is just as busy as Min had heard. Winter has arrived, and the ground is dusted with snow. The layer of white keeps the world insulated against deeper cold. Minette pauses to dip her nose into the fresh fallen snow and whuff gently. Flakes fly. A small grin crosses her features, before disappearing into serious repose.
Now that she is here, she stands quietly, uncertain, shy and expectant. Her pale cream and gray form is tiny, her growing stomach more apparent because of it. She is haunted by a raven perched on her shoulder, but her eyes are bright and her face is gentle.