On a day such as this, even the sand snakes have hidden themselves away. It’s the warmest it’s been all summer: so warm that not even the shade and water of the oasis are enough to cool Encantador’s boiling-hot blood. In fact, most of the water inland has dried up but for the river, which is too shallow and rocky to provide any real relief.

So, the stallion finds himself reclined in the ocean up to his jawline, lifting his head a hair’s-length whenever a strong wave pushes against him and shuffling nearer the shoreline as the tide continues to come in, but otherwise as still and unobtrusive as a piece of driftwood. His eyes linger half-shut, for he’s quite content to doze there in the refreshing saltwater of the sea all afternoon, at least until the worst of the noon heat has receded.

That has been his plan, at least, until his ears catch the sound of splashing that cannot be explained by the natural crashing and receding of the waves. His brown eyes snap open, and immediately he spots the one responsible for such a disturbance. Her lithe body and champagne coat are, at first, unrecognizable in the shimmering bleakness of the noon sun, but then he remembers.

Grunting, the stallion pushes himself up into a standing position as the water rolls off his soaked cream-colored pelt. At this height, the undulating water level only teases his elbows, so he approaches the mare as the crow flies – in a line as straight as an arrow. His expression is not hostile as he nears her, legs splashing in the sea and muscled body dripping all over, but it is solemn and doesn’t hide the suspicion or irritation he feels. It’s too warm for this.

“You,” he finally greets her, eyes raking her gold and white form. “Why are you here?”