"Name's England." Somehow that seems important, to get it right, even if she doesn't remember the color. His skin twitches under her hand and she lifts it, then strokes more firmly. He seems to like that better. "The horse, I mean. I'm Kate."

She tips her chin at the girl, acknowledging the question. "I don't know who you'd ask, but you can probably take England out." Her fingers tighten in the horse's mane again until the coarse hairs cut into her palm. The pain of it steadies her out, but she still swallows a little hard before she says, "His owner's gone."