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Michaela ripped off a strip of cloth from the bottom of Jara’s tunic and rubbed it hard against Rune’s dirty coat. She wanted his smell on it, the smell of his fur and the oils from his skin beneath and the smell of the dust embedded in his hair.
She sniffed the cloth, then rubbed some more. Finally satisfied with the odor, she tucked it into the waistband of the borrowed leggings where she also kept her knife.
She could tie the cloth around her face whenever she needed to. If she had to be among these people for now, she did not want to have to smell them.
But if she could find more of her village’s horses—
That moment when she first saw Rune.
The explosion of happiness inside her chest.
Rune, a’la mamu! A’la mamu!
Rune, I am here. I am here.
She had not seen this horse since
