Arcana's face is full of doubts but the gilded stranger offers only a curious welcome. The other mare extends her snout for an exchange of breath, and Arcana hesitantly returns the gesture. Arcana is not hesitant about this mare. In fact, she would be excited to meet another her own age, but she cannot settle the ominous twisting of her gut, or slow the rapid thumping of her heart. She cannot silence the voice in her head that warns she may never return to the land that served as a last earthly reminder of mother's warm embrace. So she continues to carry herself with worry in her eyes and tension in her neck, and her strangely curved ears swivel with uncertainty.

She smells the Badlands on this mare, but also other places. So many smells from every corner of this world have breezed through the Badlands, and Arcana wonders how no one seems to settle down. Arcana likes the idea of home. To forever drift from herd to herd and place to place, never allowing yourself enough time to form real relationships, or truly call a place home, is a horrifying notion to her. Perhaps if her mother were still alive, she might have left the Badlands to start her own life without looking back. Just the knowledge that all she held dear was safe, no matter how distant, would be enough for her to move on and find others to fill her heart. But Arcana was orphaned so young that her traumatized emotions cling to the memory of what she lost. This move to the desert, even if it is a neighboring territory, will be hard for her.

"I'm Arcana," the black and white filly echoes a greeting, then Carys asks where the nearest watering hole might be. Arcana has been here once before, and remembers the direction. She turns to her remembered path and gestures with a motion of her head. "This way."

Arcana's hooves step out, but her eyes remain on Carys for a brief moment, just to be sure she follows. It is in this moment that Orhan's call startles her. The painted filly flinches and looks ahead. Perched atop the dune she was about lead Carys over is Orhan, a second guide to lead the way. Arcana's ears draw back with the effort, as he pushes herself into a canter. The sand shifts, and falls away from under her churning hooves. She struggles up the incline, despite her running start, and meets Orhan at the top. The young mare's strange ears tip forwards and she offers him her snout, before looking back for Carys.

Arcana's mind is slowly shifting from the sadness of her departure to the dryness in her throat. Navigating the deep sands of the desert is definitely more physically demanding than the relatively flat terrain of the Badlands. A sandy residue clings to her coat, now damp with sweat, and her nostril's flare. Right now Arcana is bony, and long-legged with little muscle tone and the low-set belly of a filly that needs more exercise, but living here will undoubtedly change that.