The mountains are cool, barely touched by summer's heat. Mist rises faintly upwards through which glimpses of black winged birds can be seen flocking. There are two numbering the herd now, awaiting the whim of their master, but they have not sought one another's company. For her part, Minette isn't eager to share her misery with anyone. This is the first time she feels at home in this desolate place, one with its feeling of deep pain and loss.
The grief she carries is great. Minette doubts Gryffen can punish her any more than her shattered heart already has. With every breath and every step and in every moment, she misses her baby. Sette's smoky black form, graceless and full of life, with eyes that shine with eagerness. Minette doesn't know when she will see her daughter again. If she ever will. She isn't even sure if she herself will see another day.
It is only a matter of time before the white stallion returns.
The cream gray mare finds comfort in the safety of her child, but it doesn't stay her tears or her fear. She reeks of anguish. Now that the deed is done, and her daughter has been spirited away to safety, the fullness of her sin and terror consumes her. The wolf will come home and demand a reckoning. Minette has no hope of hiding her transgression. She can only pray he will not tear her limb from limb. She concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, and eating what little she can stomach.
The sun rises dimly on another day. Minette dips her head to drink at one of the mountain's freezing creeks. She catches sight of the deep scar above her left eye and winces, turning away. The young mare feels suspended in time, awaiting the ripples of the stone she has thrown.