Small footsteps disturbed the quiet of the cave, not that it was ever totally silent… Distant splashes of water from the falls and muffled voices from the numbers that had taken refuge in the underground were often heard in the wide cavern. Still, the new sound of movements by the cave entrance had the mare on high-alert. Meg was supposed to be resting, she knew that, but after what seemed weeks and weeks of patrols and wraith hunts, the tired mare could not seem to calm her mind down enough to sleep soundly. Quick steps brought her from the deeper caverns to the vast entrance hall to their Sanctuary. The wraiths had approached the entrance before, and if this was one, the mare was ready to call for back up.

What she found surprised her. A spindly little colt shuffled around the cave, and his slightly disheveled appearance made the warrior mare think that it might be one of the demon children that the darkness had created. His tears changed her mind, the dead didn’t possess feelings like that. And the realization of what must have happened hit her like a train. This colt was far to young to have been on his own, but a quick sweep of the cavern put no one else in sight and Meg’s suspicions grew. She’d heard of motherly affection and care, even though her own had never displayed such, but she knew that most mothers would protect their young from any danger. Meg would bet that the wraiths had orphaned this one.

She moved forward as the little creature seemed to head towards the entrance again, determination etched on his poor little face, and made to grab gently as his scruff of a mane to tug him back down into the cave. “You cannot go out their child!” her voice came out gruff and low, and in hearing herself she realized she might only scare the poor thing more. She’d never been a caretaker before, had never had the need to be, but all the same she tried to soften her expression as she peered down. “These caves can keep you safe little one, and the horses in them will guard you. The darkness above cannot touch you here.” She managed to sound soothing enough, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if it did little to calm him. Covered in bruises he was, and she suspected he must have been through quite a harrowing ordeal.

“Tell me your name, child. I am Meg, of Dragon’s Throat” She didn’t often give her short name, it was reserved for friends and she’d always had precious few of those, but it seemed appropriate. She had no way of knowing that this was the son of her herd’s master sleuth. She’d heard talk of Shadow, but the darkness had forced them to the sanctuary before she could meet many of the throat at all.