It's past midday, and the sun is cutting a harsh slant in the western sky. Kate would reckon it to be about three or four in the afternoon; sticky, but not unbearable. Sweltering, but — that's home.

Beaut digs in the dirt like she's trying to work it into her hooves, remembering what it's like to feel at home. Maybe if she digs enough it'll lodge there in the creases beneath her shoes, and she can carry it back to the strange grasses of Milliways.

"All right. Let's git. Y'do remember how t'run, doncha?"

The horse snorts indignantly, and Kate laughs, setting her heels to her sides.