Heron Lake Plateau last night i had a dream that i was brushing a horse.

It was wonderful, feeling so warmly welcomed and wanted. Wildfire had loved Thuringwethil—she still did—but she'd always come second to Heda's duty. She distantly remembered her former mate's warning about it. Maybe she'd been right all along: the commander shouldn't have had a family. But Wildfire couldn't bring herself to regret any of, not even the most hurtful bits. Their children had come of it and Wildfire loved them all fiercely, even those ones—Artaax, Blixen, Silkie and Tux—who probably hated her now, maybe even considered her dead to them. She was almost certain none of them would ever come looking for her again, their love—like their nomi's—conditional on her fealty to Drageda.

She wished she could respond by telling Finley she was here to stay for good, though something held her tongue. And when her godmother complained about the vast boredom of retirement, Wildfire's eyes glittered. She coughed a dry laugh at the sage advice, butting her smudged muzzle affectionately against Finley's ear lobe even as she insisted, "You're not old..."

Wildfire didn't say anything else for a moment, though there was a speculative look in her chestnut eyes as she wondered, "What about traveling? Do you do that anymore?"