Encantador is shaking. He has never been so certain he wanted to hurt another. He has never been in a true fight before, but now he feels as if he only needs to step forward to make it happen, to draw blood. He has never been so angry in his life. In his mind, his feelings are justified: after all, is friend lays behind him, dead.

Debonaire's fall draws no reaction from Encantador. His expression is as fierce as before, his eyes unwavering. There is only the smallest surge of satisfaction when the buckskin doesn't rise again. But what initially strikes him as an act of submission suddenly grips him as one of guilt instead. He can see the gleam of emotion in Debonaire's dark eyes, and he stares daggers into them, as though trying to read his ally's thoughts, to confirm that Debonaire is in fact the reason for Razvan's death, that he doesn't deny his guilt by remaining silent.

Canta is only vaguely aware of the appearance of El Aran beside him. He can feel her warmth, but he does not look at her, else he might have seen how she practically radiates energy. If he knew also what thoughts and desires were coursing through her lithe frame, he might have backed down right then. Encantador is, and never will be, a murderer. He is enraged and confused, but he does not want to kill Debonaire.

When the other two mares finally push past them, blocking the submitting buckskin from his view, Encantador is forced to choke down the grimace on his face and look Neassa in the eye. His ears are pinned back and his heart shudders at her words; it strikes him how very grown up she is all of a sudden. And then Alexa... what she says draws a gape of shock from his lips.

"You?" He exclaims, looking at Neassa, "And him!?" His mind struggles to make sense of it all. He is hot; there are too many bodies surrounding him. He takes a moment to close his eyes and repress a scream that threatens to erupt from his throat. "Then he is not...? But... Razvan..."