It’s been a long struggle, but finally things seem to be calming down. The thing is, they aren’t exactly calming down precisely the way Encantador would prefer they did. With the unexpected intervention of his neighbour and ally Johnny, he simply has no idea what to do. He asks for a trade. How could I send one of my own mares away for another? How could I choose? How could I look them in the eye and tell them that they no longer were allowed to live here, with me? In his heart, the stallion knows he could never do such a thing.

And so he’s come to the grudging conclusion that he simply isn’t meant to be with Avalanche. It’s a difficult pill to swallow, but after so many weeks of fretting and bruises, it’s a relief, in a way, to take the mature stance and simply stand aside.

That has been his plan, at least, until this.

His head is hanging low and his lips are fumbling with some dry desert grass when he hears his own name ringing out across the land in an unfamiliar voice. He stands tall, eyes keen for the summoner, and finally picks her out: a grey and white silhouette, striking and beautiful against the grey-green backdrop of the sea. Encantador’s heart feels like it could burst.

He wants to race across the sands to reach her, but he restrains himself in order to maintain at least some of his dignity, instead strolling at a brisk yet relaxed walk. Oh gods, she reminds me of Dany, he thinks with mixed emotions as he reaches her. His gut is in his mouth, and his tongue feels thick and clumsy. Avalanche is as pretty as he’d remembered her, but there’s something off about her today. Does the heat bother her, or is she just nervous about being here?

Encantador offers her a genuine smile and extends his head to touch her muzzle with his own in greeting. “Do my eyes deceive me?” he teases her gently, flicking his tail and breathing deeply of the fresh salt air. “Avalanche. I hadn’t thought I’d see you again.”