Had Conquistador not been swept adrift in the roiling sea of his thoughts, he may have noticed the signs of life that surround him - the timid notes of birdsong, the faint rustle of foliage, the occasional flash of jeweled wings overhead. Like the palomino colt, the creatures of Atlantis are awakening, venturing forth from their sanctuaries and surveying the changes to their home that have literally happened overnight. For the most part, the destruction is not as dire as it appears; only the weakest had been culled by the storm - trees whose roots were not sunk deeply into the soil. The youngest and most inexperienced creatures, or those oldest and closest to death.

Were it not for the lessons of his life, and of Xina, the yearling would have undoubtedly been among the victims. But Conquistador has grown over the past season, both in strength and in wisdom - he is barely recognizable as the wispy child who had all but clung to the roan mare's side. The angular planes of his malnourished body have filled out, and though he is still dwarfed in comparison to many other foals his age, the colt is growing into his legs, beginning to resemble the stallion he will one day become. He will never be an impressive or imposing figure, but there is an undeniable strength beneath his deceptively frail appearance.

The telltale thud of hooves moving over ground finally pierces the chaos of Conquistador's thoughts, and the sight of Dia approaching is met with a glad little cry. Though not typically an exuberant child, he throws his head back and frolics a couple steps forward to meet the golden mare, thrusting his muzzle at hers, to prove in the touch that she is solid, tangible, and not simple an illusion of the mind.

"Dia!" he chirps in his happy voice after her reality is confirmed. And then, in a more somber tone, he continues, "I"m alright. I- I was afraid, I thought that the sea ate you up." His dark brown eyes are solemn now as they flick between the trees to glance at the ocean, which has calmed considerably in the hours since he had last seen it. Conquistador's tawny coat trembles nevertheless as he remembers the intensity and force with which the waves had battered the shore - as if the sea has sought to reclaim the island into its depths.