The ache in Conquistador's hollow chest seemed to ease when the young girl settled down beside him . Though she was smaller than he, the filly's warmth seemed to envelop him, and a strange heat burned beneath his golden skin where she touched him. Sheltered as he had been throughout the two years of his life, the palomino had rarely interacted with anyone outside of his small family, and not even the rare intimate moments they'd shared had felt like this. It was strange that the comfort he'd sought should come from a stranger, but Conquistador did not question the contrived intentions of fate. Instead, he rested his chin atop the curve of her neck, making a little sound of contentment in the back of his throat.

His dark eyes fell shut, and his breath slipped into a deep, steady rhythm. Lingering in the elusory world that existed between dreams and reality, his thoughts turned again to the day Debonaire had died. With the burden of his grief temporarily gone, he found that he was able to witness the moments that preceded his father's death more objectively - to see things that he had previously missed. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, until a sudden realization awoke Conquistador from his doze with a jolt.

Though Debonaire had used both teeth and hooves against his eldest son, Rade had never struck a single blow until the one that had ended his father's life. In fact, the palomino roan's first instinct had been to flee; he'd been heading for the surf when Debonaire had headed him off, and from that moment the buckskin had always stood between Rade and the sea. And when their father's teeth had sunk into Rade's ear, forcing a bellow of pain from between his lips, Rade had only tried to pull away, to get away - refusing to fight even in defense of his own life. It was then that something had happened. Conquistador had been unable to see the cause clearly - and would likely never know - but somehow Debonaire had fallen. And Rade, unbalanced by the sudden absence of his father's efforts, had come back to earth with the full force of his weight.

Debonaire's death had been an accident - an end that was, if anything, his father's own doing.

Conquistador rose abruptly into a stand before he remembered his silent companion. For a long moment he stood torn between closure and comfort, friendship and family. In the end, however, it was the latter that won. Rade had saved him when he was on the brink of starvation; he could not allow his brother to suffer. Somehow, there had to be some way that he could set things right again - that he could rebuild the shattered remnants of his family.

"Thank you. And I-I'm sorry." He spoke for the first time to the girl, as he stepped toward the sea. "Please...understand. I have to go." It was painful to leave her lying there, with only a promise to comfort her in turn - a promise Conquistador wasn't even certain he could keep. "I'll be back," He breathed, touching his muzzle to hers briefly - and then, before she could speak, before her words could hold him, he plunged into the surf.