Here was the truth: it was hard to give a fuck about horses Nymeria didn’t know.

Nymeria had always imagined having a herd to be like living with her extended family. There would be her brothers and sisters, her aunts and uncles, her cousins and perhaps, eventually, nephews; all horses she loved, accepted, even if she disagreed with their fundamental beliefs. Maybe she hadn’t expected this right away, but a season or two with the Hidden Falls and she still felt as out-of-place as she had that first day with the Storyteller. She always told herself to do this, do that, but instead she spent her time dreaming of a different life, one where she might be the narrator of a better story... but truthfully? Nymeria would fade into anonymity like all the rest.

The faces around her had become more familiar, and she wore their smells on her skin, but as she heeded the summons she didn’t feel any more comfortable than she ever did. She wasn’t certain who had called the “family”—can you honestly say the Hidden Falls is a family? Is it only me who is lonely when surrounded by so many?—but she came anyways. She lapsed into frugal uncaring, faded into the bodies trickling towards the source of the call, slid into an idle and mindless state where she didn’t live so much as existed.

The muffled tattoo of hooves on soil was a comforting sound. She breathed in—and out—ears pricking forwards, eyes catching on the pegasus at the front. Halt.  

Who were the leaders again? Kaj and Archibald. Strange how she’d never talked to either of them; strange how they would let live in their numbers somebody they’d never met. An idle and bemused smile corrected the downturned contours of her mouth. Their error was to her benefit. At some point, she supposed, she’d to come talk to them, introduce herself—seize the opportunity in full. Her heart (so often sluggish with the onset of winter) quickened in pace at the thought of that, and Lilomiel, perched on her shoulders, chirped in bright agreement.

It sounds like there’s going to be a speech.

There was. Kaj’s words loud and proud, sharp syllables and weaponized vowels, but to Nymeria the effort was hollow. With each progressive sentence, she stood a little straighter, stood a little taller—her eyes haughty and bright, a smile quirking up the corner of her mouth. It was a lie, nothing more than acting; but it was a lie that looked fiercely genuine. She emulated Kaj’s pride, but she did it only for appearances.  

Others stepped forward. They volunteered, and they smiled.

Nymeria waited her turn. A younger her would’ve been afraid, but she didn’t fear like she should. She drifted her way through the crowds, and turned her white-skulled face towards Archibald and Kaj.

 “Confutatis has left Helovia,” she announced, “she turned tail and ran, as she always has. This time, she won’t be coming back.”