Pego stirred in his sleep as dry lightning flared behind a herd of thick clouds. He was soon awake and, rousing himself, wandered off a short distance. The lightning sheeted an eerie silence across the sky. A shadow stirred in a bush, and the stallion shied. It was a coyote. The fox dog reared up on its hind legs, and for just a second, it took on the aspect of Pego’s old master Don Arturo with his crooked legs, the man who had named Pego for the star god.

Pego was fascinated by the creature before him. The rest of the herd was frightened of coyotes, but not he. Between his star god in the sky and this crafty fellow, Pego felt in good company.

“How can you go wrong?” the coyote said, seeming to read Pego’s mind.

“You spoke?” asked Pego. “I thought you were an Iber, my old master. What happened?”

“Ah, a trick of my trade! You can be a master, too. A master of this herd.”

Pego’s ears pricked up. “Who are you?”

“I am Coyote. Some call me First Angry.”

“That’s a strange name.”

“It is indeed. It doesn’t fit. You can’t be angry and do what I do. You have to be calm to think.”

“What exactly do you do?” Pego asked.

“You’ll see. Stick with me, horse. I can slip through anything.”

“Stick with you to where?” asked Pego. He kept one ear toward the coyote and turned the other to the sleeping herd behind him.

“Deep into the canyon where the shade cools. Lead them in and I shall then lead you out — out of fire, out of death. Out as master!”

Dawn tinted the horizon, and a slight wind wrinkled the surface of the river. The wind was warm, too warm for this early in the morning, this late in the year. As soon as Estrella awakened, she felt empty, as if the world had turned hollow. She walked down to the banks of the river and peered at her reflection. Her face had changed. Her head was different, longer. She still had a star on her brow, but it was partly obscured by the long black forelock that flopped down between her ears. But it was her legs that amazed her. She waded in a bit so she could see more of her reflection, and wished her dam were here to see how she had grown. Her legs seemed so long and the white “stockings” had grown with them. It was an odd word, stockings. Estrella recalled a conversation she had had with her dam once.

“What are stockings, Mamita?”

“They are clothes the Ibers wear on their feet.”

“But, Mamita, these are not clothes! These are my feet, my legs, my coat. Why do they call them stockings?”

“Because it is the Ibers’ world, and they are the namers.”

Estrella had accepted that then. But now they were in this new world and they were free. They did not wear saddles or bridles or the iron shoes of which Pego was so proud. Just then, she heard the clink of Pego’s shoes on the stones of the riverbank. He turned his head toward her and nodded respectfully.

“Still the hot wind blows!” Pego said.

“Yes,” Estrella replied.

“I hope you don’t feel that I am intrusive,” he said in a gentle tone that Estrella hadn’t heard from him before.

“Yes?”

Pego hesitated. “I understand that you lost your dam. She was killed in a most unfortunate manner.”

“Yes!” said Estrella. “We were thrown overboard during a long calm, and a shark —”

“I can’t imagine how terrible that was for you.”

Estrella stared at the stallion. It seemed as if he had changed overnight.

“I am so fortunate,” Pego continued, “to be reunited with my filly Azul at last. You know, I never saw her even as a foal. Her dam and I were separated on First Island.”

“That’s sad,” Estrella said.

He nodded. “But not nearly as sad as what you went through.”

Estrella said nothing. She simply could not understand the change in the arrogant Pegasus.

“I — I …” He hesitated, even seemed to falter slightly. “Look, these winds, they’re hot. Take it from an old desert horse.”

An old desert horse! Pego never referred to himself this way. He made it sound as if he were a nag who had just wandered over.

“I’m not sure how long these winds will blow,” Pego continued, “but the heat will wear us down. It’ll be cooler if we travel near the river. We’ll be near water. And it seems to me that the river might lead into a canyon, which means protection from the hot winds.” He paused. “These winds aren’t exactly going our way. They’re against us.”

Our way? Estrella wondered. Since when has Pego cared about our way? She was about to say something, but she stopped herself. Pego was being so humble.

He cleared his throat. “I know you and Azul have had your … differences. But I always tell her, ‘Estrella is the leader. We must follow.’”

At this, Estrella lifted her head and blinked.

“Really!” he said. “There’s no horse steadier than old Hold On. He follows you, and he’s no fool, that stallion.”

“That’s kind of you,” Estrella said.

She looked down the river. It was like a ribbon of gold in the early morning sun, and yet it was still fairly cool. The winds would come up and it did feel as if the day would grow uncomfortably hot. As Hold On said, the seasons were still fighting, summer stubborn to stay and autumn, winter’s outrider, trying to clear the way. She looked toward the bend in the river and saw large shadows splashed across it. If they followed the river and it really did lead into a canyon, they’d be protected from the sun by the shadows of the high sandstone walls. She had to admit it was a good idea.

The herd was just rousing itself. They should leave soon in order to get into the canyon before the sun climbed too high. Estrella turned to alert the others, but she shied and jumped sideways as she caught sight of a fleeting shadow slip out from the trees. “Did you see something?” she said to Pego.

“What?”

“A shadow or, well — I’m not sure. It could have been an animal, maybe even a man!”

Pego nickered softly. “No, I didn’t see anything. It was probably just a trick of the light.”