The sun was warm, the grass was sweet, and the apples were plentiful. Truly, the world knew how to treat its most important occupant.

  The equine stood squarely in the middle of her clearing, ears flicking lazily at a persistent fly. Her coat gleamed a dusty red, marked here and there by the occasional scar of long-forgotten hardships—battle trophies, as far as she was concerned. Her tail swished imperiously, scattering both flies and lesser worries as she surveyed her domain. Life in the clearing was as it should be: orderly, comfortable, and entirely centered on her.

  She didn’t know what the humans called her, nor did she care. Names were for creatures who needed them. She was simply herself, and that was enough. The one who brought apples (the tall, noisy one with a face like old bark) called her “Granny Xiu,” as though she were some wizened crone dispensing wisdom from a mountain. She found the name amusing enough to tolerate it but would have preferred something with a touch more grandeur—Great Lady of the Clearing or High Arbiter of Grazing Rights, perhaps.

  She lowered her head to the apple at her feet and took a slow, deliberate bite. The juice burst across her tongue, sweet and sharp, and she rolled her eyes skyward in contentment. This was a good apple, better than the last one. She’d have to give the bark-faced human credit when he returned; he was remarkably competent for someone with only two legs.

  Satisfied with this train of thought, she wandered toward the stream that trickled along the far edge of her domain. The water sparkled in the sunlight, tumbling over smooth stones and pooling in shallow dips, as though it had arranged itself specifically for her convenience. She lowered her head to drink, pausing just long enough to admire her reflection in the water’s surface. Her ears were particularly majestic today. She nodded approvingly at the mule staring back at her and took a long, refreshing sip, the cool water soothing her throat after the sweetness of the apples.

  The stream had always been there, as far as she could tell, quietly going about its business of existing just for her. It was reliable, unlike humans, who were always hurrying around and muttering to themselves. The bark-faced one had tried drinking from it once, his hands cupped awkwardly, and she’d snorted at his clumsiness. No one drank from her stream without her permission. She tolerated him because he brought apples, but even she had limits.

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  She grazed her way back toward the heart of the clearing, her hooves clicking softly against the stones scattered along the edge of the stream. Her ears twitched at the faint hum that surrounded the clearing, an invisible boundary that shimmered like sunlight on water when she squinted at it. She didn’t understand the hum, not really, but she trusted it the way she trusted the earth beneath her hooves or the breeze that carried the scent of apples to her nose. It was hers, after all, and that was enough.

  The tall human had brought the hum with him, just as he’d brought the apples and the occasional brush for scratching behind her ears (a proper thank-you for her years of patient service). When he left, the hum stayed behind, wrapping the clearing in a soft, shimmering bubble that whispered, This is your place. Stay here. She liked that about the hum. It understood her priorities.

  The bark-faced one had left earlier, muttering to himself as he often did. She’d watched him go with a single raised eyebrow (metaphorically speaking, of course—mules had no need for such theatrics). Where he wandered didn’t concern her; he always came back eventually, smelling of trouble and carrying complaints. She hoped he’d left behind a few more apples, though. That was his real job.

  Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a question surfaced: Where had the bark-faced one gone? He never left for long. He knew better than to leave her unguarded for too many hours. But the thought faded almost as quickly as it had come. Wherever he was, he would return, because where else would he go? She was here. The apples were here. Everything of importance was here.

  The sun shifted slightly in the sky, casting dappled patterns of light across the clearing. She finished the apple in a series of loud crunches, then wandered over to the far edge of the clearing where the grass looked greener. The hum pulsed gently as she approached, tickling the edges of her awareness. It was as if the world itself sighed in relief that she was exactly where she should be.

  With a final swish of her tail, she lowered her head to graze, the faint shimmer of the hum flickering at the edge of her vision. The tall one could take all the time he wanted. She had her apples, her grass, her stream, and her clearing.

  Everything was as it should be.