Unfortunately, taking this new trail hadn’t quite given her what she had hoped for. The white mare - as it was simply the easiest way to describe a cremello mare who had, with a few years of age, only whitened some more due to her father’s greying genes - longed for her smaller siblings. She had left only because she’d thought she would return, quite easily even, not because she had wanted to leave the little Aamu behind, or their brothers for that matter. Although her young sister was entering her second year, still she remained the little sister. Ilma woke, blinking against the sun and a little surprised by the sea breeze that came to her. She ruffled fur and feather, and tried to locate other scents. Following the one that seemed to lead to fresh, or fresh enough, grass, she made it to an open field, with vague horse-scents of passer-by’s, but no herd’s scent marks seemed to come to her. It seemed a good enough place to settle for a meal. |
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Robert Jordan, Wheel of Time