Yarman rode. It was speed, the slap of the wind, and the cold hitting his face that helped untie the knots inside. He could feel pressure twist within him tighter and tighter until he just had to spin free or explode.

The feeling had kept him up most of the night. As he tossed under his covers he tried to figure out the uneasiness. It wasn’t Estan Sloan, his guardian or even Raven Downs, his home for the last few years, which built up this tension. There were very few days he didn’t thank Sherakai for placing him here. He loved the farm. In fact that was the problem. This was home and in truth it was not.

Guilt would nip at him. He should be missing his family more. He should be making plans to get home. When he was first sent away, to the Dreven Academy he spent every moment planning an escape and thinking about his mother, brothers and how to get home. He worked hard to get any piece of information. But now, he rarely pictured them and they hardly ever crossed his mind. He didn’t miss them. He didn’t even think of them.

What if they didn’t miss him either? As much as he wanted to stay here at Raven Downs, he still wanted his father, mother and brothers to notice his absence. Have they forgotten about him? How can he not think of them but want them to think of him?

Most of the time he saw himself as Estan’s son. Not that he would ever say so. Not that he didn’t have any pride in the name San Giamonico. It was just that a child, a young boy, needed more than a far off image of what a family name meant. He craved for firm hands to encourage him and guide him. He found that in Estan Sloan.

So why, if his life was so satisfying did he get these knots inside?

Because he feared he didn’t fit in anywhere. What if Estan didn’t want to play the father game any longer? There was no reason he should. What if Sherakai dan Rikash didn’t want him as a ward and no longer wished to pay for his keep? It wasn’t as if he was adding anything of value to Sherakai’s holdings. What if he did something wrong and they were so displeased they sent him away? What if he was called home?

There was a part of Yarman that was sure when things were going well, it only indicated things were going to get worse.

After rolling through these feelings over and over all night, he ran to the stables as soon as the first lights of a new day stretched over the hilltops. He went from stall to stall, greeting each horse, telling them how strange he felt, until he found the same yearning look in the eyes of a bay brown mare he called Bres. He stroked her face, and rubbed his hand over the snip of white at the end of her nose. She encouraged him. In those moments he decided. He needed to ride.

Nothing felt better than being on the back of a horse. That’s what he needed right now. So without a second thought he led Bres from her stall and before long he was galloping through the open field of snow.

Things looked brighter with the cold hitting Yarman’s face and wind beating his ears. After a fast start he and Bres both felt the freshness push out the stall indoor cabin air. They walked along a tree line noticing deer tracks in the fresh snow, and listening to the birds sing to the new sun. For a brief time Yarman didn’t think about the unopened letter from his brother Wilt left on the tabletop.





Estan Sloan noticed the letter he put on the table yesterday for Yarman was still there. It hadn’t been touched and was still unopened. He stood at the window and watched the young boy and mare take off through the melting snow. He drank a cup of warm tea and wondered what he should do.

Too bad Kai wasn’t here. He seemed to know what to say to children as they struggled. He had a soft but convincing tone Estan had often tried to replicate. Long ago the two had talked about Yarman, Kai believing he needed gentle structure. That was something Estan had given easily. From his days as a Silver Moon Knight and his years of training horses he had the patience and the empathy. He never felt he broke a horse. He just channeled the energy.

He felt connected to ever horse he ever trained. But those feeling dimmed compared to the strong tie he felt to Yarman. He never saw himself in the boy, far from that. He was trying to provide all the support, the knowledge, the guidance and safe home he never had. All to someone else’s son.




Just as an easy smile began to return to Yarman’s face he guided Bres around a large stand of pine trees to one of his favorite spots. The large evergreens dipped down to the frozen stream that was just beginning to allow water to flow through the middle. There, with a fire going, stood Estan and his horse, his stallion, Dagda.

“Breakfast?” Estan held up a cup of warm tea. On the fire a slab of meat cooked.

Yarman slid off Bres and tried to hide a smile. He was hungry. He took the offered cup and sipped.

After Yarman enjoyed the warmth, Estan handed him the unopened letter. “It’s time we see what’s ahead.”

Dear Yarman,

I've written this letter several times over the last few days and I am still at a loss for words. I know you are probably angry with me for never coming back, and I understand. How could you not be angry? I would like to come see you though. Kai thinks this isn't a good idea which is why I am writing to ask you. I would like to say that I will explain my reasons for never coming to see you before, but to be completely honest I don't have any other than my own weakness. I didn't know how to face you after I heard the news of Carson, and then I stayed away because I didn't want to remember. And after so much time passed I knew it would be too late to try to fix things. But now I have found myself thrust into the thick of things and I think we have a lot to talk about. I'm not asking you to forgive me, but just to give me a moment to talk to you and if you ask me to leave, or if you never want to see me again after, then I will go.

~Amorina Stoneheart


“Suddenly, I am wanted.” Yarman tossed the note on the table and flopped down into a chair. Estan Sloan slowly pulled a chair from the small table and sat across from Yarman. He glanced at the note and then Yarman. He had learned from watching Kai that often the best way to get a lad to talk is to say nothing at all.

“She says she was thrust into the thick of things. That can only mean my family. Have I ever told you about my family?” Yarman leaned back in his chair and Estan knew the question was not placed for an answer. “My father is a remarkable man. That makes it necessary for all his sons to be remarkable. I cannot help but feel he molds us all, a push here, pressure there, a spin of the wheel. And when any of us feel the weight is too strong our mother reminds us what pressure really is and how fortunate we are. I am not complaining.” Yarman suddenly looked to Estan, “I am complaining.”

Yarman sighed, “My oldest brother Theil has been shaped to be the thinker. He is thoughtful, analytical, and articulate. He is always right. And if he is not, if I know I am right, by the end of the conversation, somehow I am wrong. Listan, the second oldest, is the one of action. He will just do something and then he will explain why it was right. If he cannot explain it he will just shrug and say it felt right at the time. People like him. He smiles. He dazzles. Wilt is the one to negotiate the two. He can tell Theil what Listan’s actions really mean and Listan what Theil words suggest. He can listen and interpret. I follow the three. I am the shadow. I walk behind. I often felt I was the extra, the one just in case something happened to the first three.”

Yarman took a pause and looked back to the note. “My father sent us all out to different places. We are his fingers, he has said. Now he pulls his fingers back, together, to see what he has grabbed.” Yarman hung his head.

Estan shifted in his seat. Yarman’s words were done and he knew now was the time for him to say something. He would like to say everyman struggles to find his path, his own walk in shadows of someone or something. It is a life long travel. But the sound of that seems more for Estan than for Yarman. Yarman already felt the struggle. To tell him it is life long might not be the words he needed right now.

Estan reached across the table and took gentle hold of Yarman’s arm, “You are not a shadow. You walk taller than you are able to see. I know this. Kai knows this. Wilt and this woman who sent the note can see this as well.” Yarman lifted his head and looked directly into Estan’s eyes. “I trust you.” Estan gave Yarman’s arm a small squeeze. Yarman’s eyes told Estan those were the right words.