“That’s good. Let her get used to the sound of your voice, too. Try putting your hand on her neck. If she lets it stay there, start scratching,” Grim said. “Don’t stop brushing Arial.”

She couldn’t have stopped brushing if she’d tried; Arial was now leaning into the brush strokes with pure pleasure, eyes half-lidded, a forgotten strand of hay sticking out of her mouth.

“Easy, baby,” Delia said to both of them. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good.”

The foal’s ears twitched again. Arial moved her head a little, saw what Delia was up to, considered things for a moment, and closed her eyes completely. Evidently she was of the opinion that someone who was so superior at brushing was safe to have around her precious baby.

Moving with exquisite care, Delia set a hand on Star’s neck. The foal’s skin shivered under the unexpected pressure, but as Delia started scratching, she settled. Her ears flicked toward Delia again, and she moved a little closer, to get more scratches.

“There you go,” Grim said with an air of triumph. “You’ve got them both now. Keep that up until one of them gets bored.”

“Won’t that mean I’ll be here all day?” Delia objected.

“Foals don’t have that long an attention span. Just give her a moment.”

Delia scratched until she had covered every bit of the foal she could reach without moving. At about that time, Star did get bored, hungry, or both. She pulled away and stuck her head under her mother’s flank, seeking milk.

“I can’t believe that last night she wasn’t even born, and now she’s up and trotting around!” Delia said softly. “Puppies and kittens aren’t like that.”

“That’s because she’s a prey animal. Prey babies have to be able to run from the time they’re a few hours old. Leave her alone a moment, and hand me the brush,” Grim told her, and when she had passed it over, continued, “Now rest your hand lightly on Star’s back. Maybe scratch a little if she doesn’t object.”

Star was too busy drinking to object. At Grim’s direction, Delia put both hands on the foal’s back, with a very little pressure. “We’re getting her used to the idea of weight on her back, so when the time comes for her to wear a saddle, and then to allow you to ride, it will all seem normal,” Grim told her. “This morning is going to set the path for her for the rest of her life.”