Wheeling Gull Isle You Dream About Going Up There, But That is a Big Mistake

The horses were becoming more and more familiar to her, like members of a new family--a large, incredibly different-looking family, but a family nonetheless. She had studied them further, after her first excursion here with Reed, beginning to memorize their different coat colors. Some of them, Maegi had even named. Marigold, the mare with the flaxen mane, and Cedar, the imperious brown stallion. . .

Her eyes flashed as she saw movement nearby, and her gaze fixed on Driftwood, whose quivering was perceptible even from this distance. Giving him a small chuff so as not to alarm him further, Maegi crept from the long grass to sidle up beside him, sitting down and looking over at him with a mixture of amusement and comfort in her eyes.

"They're not going to hurt you," Maegi assured him, dipping her muzzle at the horses. "Not unless you hurt them first. I think they're more scared of us, anyway, even though we're smaller." After all, the elk feared the wolves, though the sizes differed. They were the predators, the hooved animals the prey.