Conquistador has never realized how loud silence can be.

Writhing free from the clawed grasp of a nightmare, the palomino colt shudders awake. An eerie quiet pervades the false twilight of the jungle, and the rough texture of bark caresses his cheek. Blinking his dark brown eyes open, the yearling is perplexed as he takes in his unfamiliar surroundings. Tucked between two massive roots of a kopak tree, Conquistador's small body is cradled within a shallow depression in its wide trunk, curled up so tightly that his muzzle rests on his flanks. Panic seems to compress his lungs as the colt discovers that he can barely move, can barely breathe; there is little room to maneuver himself in the cramped confines of this space. Wriggling toward a small gap ahead, however, Conquistador emerges from his sanctuary, pulling himself up into a wobbly stand.

Like the droplets still finding their way to the earth, it takes forever for the memories to penetrate the tangled canopy of his thoughts. And when they finally do arrive, it is in disjointed images that barely make sense of the devastation before him. The jagged shards of light that had seared across the sky. An angry sea, sending wave after wave to overwhelm Atlantis's shore. And wind, wind that screamed and howled with fury as it tore through the forest, seizing the weakest of the palms and sending them crashing into their stronger brethren.

Only the space where Conquistador had sought refuge seems untouched, as if the storm had suddenly grown bored and decided to move on.

Skirting widely around an uprooted tree, the colt is struck by a concern that halts him in his tracks. He remembers Xina running up the beach, calling for her daughter - where was the mare who had become mother to him? And the other members of Sahin's small herd - had they all been swept away by the sea? Conquistador shakes his head as if in denial, as if to clear his mind of the distressing thoughts, but the insidious fear has already taken root. Inhaling as deeply as he can, the yearling lets out a single plaintive call, hoping that someone will hear him; that they will find him.

The silence is overwhelming.