The setting sun turned the scattered clouds orange, pink, and red-gold, highlighting the cover he could use to conceal their silhouette from the ground, but Rorek barely noticed. According to his map, he was close to the haven at Carver Canyon Falls, an old inn he'd heard was good, but never visited himself. A week to rest. Maybe two. That was what his broadwing, Apel, would need before making the long trip back to Vale. Back to his wife and daughter. Back home.

Holli trekked up a grassy ridge. For the past month, her mares had been hatching their foals. Each day, she made the journey from her house, past the gardens, and across the pastures, to the edges of the pine forest to see if any new mares had emerged from their nesting grounds with their new young.

 The roar of a crowd filled the jagged canyon. Rows of seats had been carved into the steep walls surrounding a portion of the valley that was studded with tall spires of stone. Spectators whooped as a broadwing pegasus as red as the desert rocks wove deftly through the columns, sweeping dangerously close to large wooden pillars set into the stone.

Sanna’s red hair swished as she scanned the rolling, boulder-studded meadow. She slipped through the rough wooden fence that outlined the pegasus pasture. It was true that the fence wouldn’t necessarily do much to keep the adult pegasi in, but it was effective in keeping predators out for the sake of the flightless foals.