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Michaela sat on the wet ground under a canopy of spruce trees and let the cold rain filtering through the dense branches soak her to the bone.
She didn’t care. The horses didn’t care. They were free. That was all that mattered.
She watched Telko and Rune graze on the wet yellow grass of the meadow just beyond the trees. They stood so close to each other their bodies were always touching.
When was the last time they had seen each other? Ten years ago?
Michaela shook her head. She didn’t want the memory.
Rune was already different from how he was earlier in the day. Alive again. The way he galloped with them, head up, hooves speeding over the earth, the light of his spirit returned to his eyes. No longer a dead-hearted slave. Never again, not ever again.
And Telko. Her pata’s horse
