The air in the stable corridor was thick with the scent of pine needles and peppermint. It was December 23rd, and the custom-built wooden advent calendar hanging on the tack room wall was nearly empty. Jen nudged Minerva, her eyes dancing with a mix of nerves and excitement. "Go on, then. Open the twenty-third. I couldn't wait until tomorrow."

Minerva pulled the latch. Instead of a chocolate or a trinket, the door swung open to reveal a single, high-gloss photograph and a set of black leather keys with a name embossed in silver: MAHEERA.

"Look out the window, Minerva," Jen whispered.

In the frost-dusted paddock stood a vision in obsidian. Even under a heavy winter rug, Maheera’s presence was undeniable—a 2022 Arabian mare, her coat a deep, seamless black (EE/aa) that seemed to swallow the dim winter light. She carried her tail high, her nostrils flaring as she watched the frost breath rise from her muzzle.

Jen leaned against the doorframe, watching Minerva’s stunned expression. "You have no idea how hard it was to get her here," she admitted with a wry laugh. "It was a literal battlefield. Mia wanted her the second she saw the pedigree—Khalid Asfar over a Jadhran Saif mare? That's endurance royalty."

"Mia tried to buy her?" Minerva asked, her eyes never leaving the filly.

"Tried? She fought for her," Jen said. "It was a 'hotly contested' situation, to put it lightly. Mia saw the LDR potential and the genetics test and was ready to sign the papers on the spot. We were practically bartering for weeks; it was a tug-of-war that almost didn't end. But I knew she belonged with you. I had to pull every string I had to make sure Maheera ended up behind door twenty-three and not in Mia's stable."

Minerva watched the filly move—a light, effortless trot that looked like she could cover miles without ever touching the ground. She was 151 cm of pure, coiled power. The silence stretched between them until Minerva finally spoke, her voice thick with realization.

"She’s incredible, Jen. She’s... she’s exactly what I’ve been looking for." Minerva turned, her eyes bright, the silver keys cold in her hand. "But a horse like this shouldn't stay in a stall here. She needs the open space. She needs the miles."

Minerva took a deep breath. "Jen... what if I took her back with me? To Sweden? The terrain there, the endless forests and the distance trails—it’s where a mare like Maheera belongs. Let me take her home. Let me show the world what she can do on the northern circuits."

Jen smiled, the stress of the bidding war with Mia finally fading. "I was hoping you'd say that. I think the Swedish air is exactly what those lungs were made for."