He hesitates in replying to her question; his mind whirls, trying to pick the right words. While he is quiet, with his head pressed against El Aran’s barrel, he can hear her heartbeat, slow and strong. It’s a reassuring sound and gives him enough strength to finally respond.

“We will see,” he says softly. It’s far easier to tell her that than to explain the whole ugly situation, and for a while longer at least, he will nurse a secretive hope that one day, Avalanche will return to him as Dany had. Oh, Dany. What would you think of me now?

He hardly hears what she says next, but he’s vaguely aware it is praise of some sort. Encantador pulls away from the warmth of his lead mare’s side, his hooves cushioned by the soft sand, and looks up at the dark mare from beneath his eyelashes. There’s a flicker of a smile on his lips, but that is all.

It’s not until she finally spells it out that it clicks within him.

Slowly, as if he’s afraid the moment will shatter if he moves too quickly, the stallion lifts his head until he is looking directly at the mare’s face. His honey-brown eyes are blank with bewilderment; he can feel the sickening warmth of anxiety and embarrassment trickling across his skin, and for a moment he is worried he is hallucinating. None of it seems real.

He has not thought of El Aran in a romantic way for a very long time – perhaps not since they first had met. Dany had filled that void; she had been his heart's desire. His lead mare, by contrast, while beautiful in her own way and full of strength, he now sees as something akin to a sister.

“I…” he begins, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth is. El Aran is poised before him, as if she is waiting. Waiting for me. He knows how to do it, has done it before, even, but still … “Of course. Of course you would.”

The next few minutes are a blur: all hesitance, adrenaline, and awkward duty.