There are clear skies over the desert. The white sands, and crystal waters of the oasis shimmer in the starlight, but scenery can be deceptive. Winter nights in the desert are cold. Hot-blooded horses sleep huddled together in groups, sharing body heat. It may not be cold enough to freeze the still waters of the oasis, but the breath of sleeping horses rises into the night like the breath of sleeping dragons.

All is quiet, and all are present save for one black and white mare. It is not unusual for Arcana to hang on the fringes of the herd. She is a horse, and thus instinctually seeks the presence of others for safety and security. Though, her usual demeanor is somewhat reserved. This night, however, Arcana is neither within sight nor earshot of the group.

She can be found shrouded in quiet seclusion on the other side of the oasis. Her head hangs low her her lower lip droops. One rear hoof is resting, and her unusual ears rest to the sides, unfocused. Her eyes are closed, but the startlight highlights drying tear tracks on her face.

Based on appearances alone, there shouldn't be much for this mare to cry about. She is in good health, here in the desert, surrounded by friends, and protected by a stallion who is both benevolent and strong. Her winter coat has grown in thicker than ever this year, so she doesn't shiver. The spaces between her ribs are filled with good grazing, and her flanks are swollen with foal. This is not her first foal, so her slack abdominal wall revealed her condition early on. She carries only one foal, but she might grow large enough for two. It's obvious that this foal will be born stronger and more robust than her last.

If all of this is true, then what is there to be upset about? This is the exact question Arcana fled to the herd to avoid when she felt the waves of emotion topple her resolve.