Arcana is indeed embarrassed by the state of herself. At home in the Badlands, she roams around, covered in dirt and debris, with brambles knotted up in her mane and stains on the white patches of her coat. She rarely sweats there, as the footing is packed earth, and easy to move over. But even when she feels the effects of heat or exertion, the salt of sweat is little bother to her. Now, however, Arcana can feel the moisture of her own sweat mixing with the dust of Badlands, and turning to mud on her coat. She suddenly becomes aware of every tangle in her mane, and the rude way her nostrils flare. She's never felt so naked and so vulnerable before. What is her adolescent heart doing to her?

Arcana continues to regard the colt with wide, dark eyes. Her gaze follows his face, as he dips his head to take a drink. He then makes the most shocking statement. Arcana opens her mouth to reply, but she has no reply at the ready for something like that. She mutters an awkward "Oh." before averting her eyes. With a history like that, shouldn't he be more afraid of snakes?

Orhan ends Arcana's predicament for lack of how to respond when he moves the conversation forward. Arcana's gently swiveling ears turn forward again, touching at the tips, and her eyes return to his desert-sands complexion. "No. I never knew my father.", she admits with little sadness. "That's Bayard. He took over the Badlands after Johnny and my Mother died. He was kind enough to let me stay." Arcana doesn't want to intrude on delicate topics but she can't deny her curiosity. "Who was that mare we left behind in the other oasis?" She waits for an answer, enjoying a brief gust of dry desert wind to dry the sweat upon her back.