He is still a child, but the palomino colt has shouldered a grown man's burden in his single year of life. Marked by the adversities he has been delivered through, Conquistador can never quite manage the carefree nature that seems to find others his age with ease; once experienced, the trials of life can never be forgotten. Playing with Dia, and strengthening his bond with the light-hearted mare, has only reminded him of what he stands to lose when he must leave Paradise. His brother had sworn an oath to return for him - and though that promise had been a comfort to Conquistador at the time, it is now a cause for concern.

There is still warmth and laughter in his eyes as Dia's splashes hit their mark, but these things are tempered by the thoughts that continue to trouble him. The yearling makes no move to continue their water-splashing warfare, instead edging closer to Dia, his muzzle pressing gently into her shoulder in a subtle and silent gesture of affection. Soaking up the simple joy of her companionship to counter the sorrow of her inevitable loss. Eventually his small body follows suit - curving himself around the mare's side, Conquistador tucks his head into the hollow of her chest. It is comfortable there, hidden away from the rest of the world. Safe.

"I can't tell you," he finally responds to the mare's gentle question, though there is a yearning beneath his soft voice. Conquistador longs to confide the secret of his past and future to his new friend. But for the moment he holds his silence, clinging with desperation to the childish hope that the shelter of a loved one's arms means nothing can harm him.