It was midday when Xina set off across the beach, making her daily trip along the sea border to look out upon the horizon as if searching for something. It was a habit she had made and did it almost the exact same time and sometimes even making the trip twice. It allowed her to notice the small changes that Atlantis experienced during the different seasons and she had begun to notice the faint rise in temperatures and the humidity growing thicker, making a thin sheen of sweat darken her neck and flanks as she walked.


Movement caught the mare’s two toned eyes as she trekked across the beach and she paused to raise her crown and peer along the sand in front of her at the two figures that stood together. One was the golden color of Dia. She had grown to recognize the other mare as she would Mera, Conquistador or even Sahin. Keeping an eye on the growing mother from afar; the older mare had wondered how Dia would fair during this birth. Xina didn’t know if it was her first or not but each delivery was different; she had learned that the hard way.


Despite the swollen size of the stranger that suggested it to be a mare, Xina felt a sense of aggression rush through her much as she had felt when Conquistador had met the rest of the herd. Ears tilting back she lurched forward into a gallop, her stride eating up the ground until she grew close to the two mares. Coming up from behind Dia; Xina moved to stand beside the taller mare, close enough that their shoulders and flanks would be brushing if Dia did not move away. Wanting to make a united front she kept her ears tilted back but not pinned, Xina raised her head to look down upon the other mare with eyes narrowed in suspicion. If this stranger was not Sahin’s mare and was pregnant, she obviously did not belong here and trouble did not need to be brought to this beach because of some runaway.


Xina had come up just in time to hear Sylvia’s introduction and request for names in return. The roan woman did not feel it was any of the painted mistress’s business in truth and when she parted her lips to speak it was not to answer the question. Instead it was to state her own question.


“Why are you here, Sylvia?”