Şahin’s boredom had transformed into something more constructive: irritation, which led to anger. He hadn’t seen Lyden since the stallion had arrived in Paradise, and he was of the opinion that the pale spotted male had disappeared in much the same fashion that the blind Akhal-Teke had left him. Şahin was tired of horses abandoning him, and he stormed down the beach to expel some of his negative energy. His pace varied from a clipped trot to an aggressive canter, and he often punctuated these changes in gait with agitated tosses of his head. The whip of his forelock against his face and eyes was uncomfortable but he welcomed the sensation, preferring the mild pain to moping about and wondering when his life had taken such a miserable turn.

If so many horses left him, wasn’t he to blame?

The most frustrating part of it all was that the Nez Perce could think of nothing he had done recently that would warrant such desertion from others. He was sociable, forgiving, tolerant— maybe that was it. Maybe he was just too damn nice. At least Esmerelda and Xina had agreed to stay, and he’d made a friend by chance recently who he hoped to persuade to stay with him in Paradise as well. She was stimulating company and he needed that, needed it so badly it had warped him from the warm-hearted and gregarious stallion he had once been to someone riddled with doubts about his own self-worth.

During his run down the beach he came across a scent that reminded him of a muggy day and a cool lake riddled with insects— the Lagoon. Soon after he came across the skinny mare who carried it, and he recalled her name as soon as he saw her shape. “Dia?” he called, steadying his head and his pace to something less stilted. She was galloping in the opposite direction as he was, and soon they would pass one another. He slowed his pace, ready to come to a complete halt, and called out to her again. “Dia! It’s me, Şahin!”