Dante did not have long to wait before life’s next challenge was indeed hurled towards him. Or, rather, it sloshed forth from the glittering ocean.

He had seen the mare, a speck on the water’s surface, a short way off, but it soon became apparent that she hadn’t noticed him standing idly on the shore. She didn’t spare him even a glance as she pulled herself out of the water and began to shake herself dry. The stranger was so close to him that he could see the tiniest backlash of water droplets onto the white-gold sand as she shook herself, but she seemed too focused on her own thoughts to pay her surroundings any attention.

Dante couldn’t say he minded, for she was an interesting thing to look at. It was obvious from her face that she was young, still, as he was; she appeared to be roughly the same size, and her coat was the same fiery red. Her hair, however, was striking gold, and her body peppered from the top-down with a peculiar kind of soot and from the bottom-up with bright white flecks. The shadows in the dim light of the sunset played even more intricate patterns across her skin.

Intrigued by her unusual appearance, Dante barely noticed her turning to see him for the first time, and was startled by her sudden scream. He released an involuntary squeal, and stumbled backwards, turning towards the retreating mare but not moving any closer to her. Confusion clouded his gaze, wondering a) what he had done to be declared a fiend on sight and b) who on earth Malachite was.

After a few moments he regained his composure, and watched the girl with his one good eye, though he made no effort to approach her for fear of scaring her off. Instead, he settled for talking to her from a distance.

“I’m sorry!” he rushed to assure her, a frown pulling on his lips in his displeasure at having upset this stranger. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

DANTE
a man possessed of some radical notions