No, no, I'll come with you. You might need me if the bleeding starts again. That's what I'd said when Shadow pointed out that I didn't have to come to this Basin with them, and for a moment I'd considered trundling off from whence I came. But I wanted to see this job through - I wanted to be here until the bitter end, to make sure both mare and foal were safe.  So I'd come. The black pegasus had told me I saved her life, and the compliment had filled me with a warm glow. I did good. For the first time in my life, I did something right. I helped, I saved. Perhaps I had finally found my calling.

However, the further we continue into this icy, inhospitable territory, the more I begin to wonder if I made the right decision. Our journey has been a long one, and I have felt like the odd one out. I am intruding on their little family, their perfect clan of sire, dam, and daughter. I try to walk a short distance away from them to give them space, and as much as I want to frolic around with the filly, I resist. She is not my child, and I shouldn't be hogging these precious formative days of hers, as much as I want to. But I can't help it - being around this small, dysfunctional family almost makes up for the fact I can never have my own. I live vicariously through them, and I enjoy every moment I spend with them. I might be cold, hungry and tired, but a part of me wants to prolong this journey as long as possible.

The rest of me doesn't, because yes, I am cold, hungry and tired. And this place is scary, ominous and creepy in equal measure. My flesh quivers with fear and cold alike, and my ears stay plastered to my head. But I stay, because I will see this through. I will see this little family away to their happy ending, and then I will head home with a smile on my face at the sight of a job well done. Or so I tell myself.

I watch the hybrid filly bound ahead, and I chuckle despite myself. Heavens, she is adorable. Had I been so carefree and adventurous at her age? I must have been - I doubt I was a grumpy old man wearied by life's miseries when I first fell from my mother's womb. But, as the mountains grow larger and seem to open their arms for us like a demon's embrace, the filly seems to revert back to a shy baby, pressing against her mother's side for the comfort only a dam can give. I feel a pang of empathy for her, but I know her mother will treat her well, and when she has to leave it will hopefully not be traumatic. Not like me - I had been taken from my mother far too young, and oh, how I had complained! How I had cried, and galloped up and down my fence to try and reach her! We had been reunited years later, when I was broken and gelded and humanized, but it wasn't the same. I hope this little white darling gets to stay with her dam for as long as she wants.

I look to the rest of my group, trusting them to take the lead. I am just the hired help; I just want to see them safe, then I'll go and leave them to their future. I look encouragingly to the filly, then offer shy smiles to Shadow and the unicorn stallion, waiting to see if they will venture further in or hang back to be greeted by a herd resident. ""