Hundreth Year Part II

Late in Summer, when they returned to the Varre, the band of mares was greeted warmly by Denne and Starra. The rest of the herd greeted them with loud whinnies and joyful shouts. The mothers of the fillies who had left and friends of the Shrinlaa were louder than most.
   
    Denne whinnied for silence, and the crowd fell still. “Greetings, Steelfoot, my friend. How fared the herd through the Winter?” she asked loudly, for the herd to hear.
   
    “Winter passed well and good, for the most part,” Steelfoot answered. Starra nodded knowingly. The gray mare’s eyes were dim. “I know what befell the herd this winter,” she whispered.
   
    “Winter was harsh here, too. We suffered many losses, mainly among the elders. How many stallions did the Brieljing lose?” Denne asked calmly. Her level tone belied her worried expression.

    “Only one,” Steelfoot replied flatly. Her tone showed no expression.
   
    As the arrivals disbanded, dams greeted their daughters. Trinna’s mother greeted her joyfully. When she saw the lack of a foal, she asked warily, “Did you find a mate?”
   
    “Aye, Mother. Before you ask, I lost the foal,” Trinna whispered. Her mother wailed loudly, and sought to comfort her child.
   
    To their astonishment, another wail of sorrow echoed Trinna’s dam. They looked for the source of the cry, and found a blood-red mare- Marena, Moonstar’s dam. Bonaa, the Healer, rushed over to the distraught mare, muttering something about dreamroot, a calming herb. She led Marena away, presumably to her cave.
   
    The next day, Steelfoot, Starra, and Denne met under the willow trees near the Dreamteller’s Pool.
    “First, I want your report about what happened this Winter, and then,” Denne turned to Starra, “I want to know why you didn’t inform me of these events. I know you knew, with that blasted Pool of yours.”

Steelfoot drew in a deep breath. She began:
 
  “In the beginning, nothing much happened. As we reached the Brieljing, however, we encountered trouble. Right away, Moonstar became close to the serla. At the full moon, as is Custom, mares chose their stallions. Moonstar and the serla paired off, and Trinna wed with a friend of your son’s…Splatterdance, I think his name was.

    As we entered Winter, forage grew scarcer than usual. Then, about Midwinter, we suffered the first loss: Trinna’s foal was early-born, and died. Just a few hours later, Moonstar and the serla disappeared. I think they believed the Council would have banished them; Splatterdance was crying witchery on her, and wanted blood. That was the stallion we lost- the serla- none died. They went to the Greenplain.”

    “But,” interrupted Denne, “isn’t the serla supposed to go to their sacred cliffs, in exile?”

    “This stallion is the Crown Prince of the Elfish Unicorns; I have no doubt they’ll welcome him with open arms,” Starra replied.

    “Oh.”

    “That’s twelve this Winter has claimed,” mourned Denne.

    “Not quite,” Starra contradicted.

    “Starra, you yourself told me the winters were harsh, and a mare in foal—especially for the first time—doesn’t have a good chance out there!” Denne replied harshly.

    “She joined with a band of Tarish on the Greenplain. She was also well supplied with dried grasses. She was not alone, even when they were separated,” Starra stated.

    “‘They’? ‘They’ who?” Denne and Steelfoot asked in unison.

    “Why, Moonstar and Blackstar, of course.” She saw the confused expressions on her friends’ faces and laughed, “Blackstar is the serla.”

    “Okay. Now, why didn’t you tell me this before?” Denne asked the Dreamteller.

    “Kashrenn told me not to, until the time was right,” Starra shrugged.

    “Where are they now?” Steelfoot asked.

    “Moonstar, Echo--”
    “Echo?”
    “Her daughter. The two of them and a band of Tarish are in Kael Marïâ. Blackstar is in Cyre, the capital.”
   
    “Ahh. Steelfoot,” she said, turning to the captain. “Yes?”
   
    “Go to Bonaa’s cave and tell Marena that her daughter lives, and she now has a granddaughter.”

    “Yes,” said Steelfoot, and turned to leave.
                                                        ******

    As Summer passed, Trinna grew farther apart from the herd, often grazing alone, at night. She had moved from her mother’s grotto, and spent most of her time under the apple tree. She did, however, have a grotto to shelter in when bad weather struck.

    As autumn browned the grass and turned gold the leaves, her winter shag grew thick, and good fat sheathed her ribs. Unlike last autumn, she noticed her coat remained a deep, bloody crimson, and her shanks black as pitch.

    On autumn’s equinox, Steelfoot whistled the herd to Gather. She stood upon the rocky ledge that crowned Denne’s grotto. Her chomped-off mane flared, looking stiff. Her tail fanned slightly behind her as she stomped for silence.

    “Friends, fellow mares! Today marks the advent of the new year! Celebrate loud and merry, for upon the morrow’s eve, we begin the autumn trek! Now, tonight, we feast!” Steelfoot cried.

    Loud whinnies broke from the crowd of mares. The newest foals stood, confused. Older, weaned colts—the Brennling—looked dismayed; they would stay in the Brieljing.

    Trinna joined in the chorus. Tomorrow, before departure, mares wishing to join the Shrinlaa could join. The autumn training would begin during the trek.