What would Razvan think? is the prominent question at the forefront of this mind these days. Would he say I’ve betrayed him? Would he accept it as nature’s way? The memory of his beta’s body lying still and decaying beneath a bare, scraggly tree haunts him in these moments. Encantador can as well remember all too easily how he had strained for the better part of an hour to pull Razvan’s body to the sea so that his herd would not have to endure the sight and stench of a rotting carcass being feasted upon by vultures.

Giving his loyal beta the option of a watery grave had seemed noble at the time, but now it pales in comparison to the fact that he’d mounted Razvan’s most dedicated mare in a chance encounter on the crossing. She had seemed willing, of course – for Canta has never been the type to take a mare by force – but in retrospect he worries that he had somehow taken advantage of her. It’s been two years since his death, but I don’t doubt she still grieves for him.

It’s thoughts like these and many more that torment his mind as he strolls without thinking through his home. He’s blind and deaf to his surroundings and pays no attention to where he’s going, but as if by motor memory, his hooves eventually turn to take him to his favorite oasis, where he knows the shade of a half-buried boulder and trees await him. He arrives in a daze, stepping expertly around the pool of water, and heads automatically for the shelter beneath the huge rock that overlooks the oasis to recline beneath it. It’s when he bumps into something soft that his brain snaps awake.

With a shrill squeal, he backpedals in the sand and stares with wide eyes at the thing curled up on the ground before him. It takes him several moments to realize just what – and who – it is. “A-Alexa?” His heart leaps into his throat and his mind races in an attempt to find the right thing to say, but he can think of nothing else, so instead he stands there, gaping at her.