Quinta’s stride lengthened as El Aran’s did, matching it at a normal paced walk. There wasn’t anything to trip on here with only sand and a few scraggly shrubs she had brushed against on their way to where ever it was this mare was taking her. Hopefully it wasn’t into a trap with a stallion that would force her to do things. If only she had her vision, then she wouldn’t be so helpless. Her pride ached from such abuse on relying upon others yet she could not deny she needed help. If only it was for now, Quinta knew she would not survive without help.


The bay filly listened to the words in which El Aran spoke wondering how it was that she had not known her father. “Reisis was lead of the Hills such as Tauska was lead mare for some time there too.” Quinta replied. “I know my father had allies but I’m not sure if he did here in the Desert or not” Anything else that she had to say was cut off by the words of the hurt horse. As El Aran had pointed out, Quinta had not missed the sick scent but since she could not see she didn’t know just how badly it was. Everything was so much stronger, sounds, scents and touch, than what it had used to be when she could see. Ah, how everything changed. But as it seemed, the hurt horse was not as hurt as she had previously thought by the words in which she spoke. Either way Quinta could do nothing about it. Instead, she too was at the mercy of El Aran and thankfully she had been shown kindness.


When they reached the oasis Quinta was more than ready for something to drink. The cool shade that lent mercy upon her hot back was refreshing and she sighed in contentment. Never before had she been as hot as she was today or as thirsty. Sweet had started to darken her flanks and neck but not once did she complain or speak of her now weary legs in which the sands had been pulling on during their trek. Instead she had stayed quiet unless answering a question in which El Aran asked. Nostrils flaring, she could smell the water but couldn’t quite figure out where it was.