Cerosi was blissfully unaware of the battle between Ironclad and Cain as she made her way home. She had not even realized the grey colt had left Tinuvel, and if she found out he had beaten her to Salem, she would be offended despite her newness to the islands and to swimming long distances. She was competitive, and especially enjoyed besting stallions at pretty much anything she could, though the list right now was not long.

As it was, Cerosi was proud of herself for making the journey off the desert island, and was glad to find that it had cooled down a bit since she left. The breeze lifted the sun-warmed moisture from her fur as she waded through the shallows, shaking most of the water out of her platinum mane. Her heavy tail slapped against her flanks as the waves receded and she stepped onto dry sand. This place had been almost overwhelming in its heat when she first arrived, but now she didn’t mind it so much, and after her long swim she almost fancied a nap in the sun. Later, perhaps; for now, she trotted inland, separated from signs of Cain’s battle by a single dune, oblivious to the trouble she’d brought here. She did not even pick up Ironclad’s scent.

She did, however, catch the scent of the painted stallion as the oasis came into view, and as she got closer she could see that Cain was rolling in the shallow water. She let out a high whinny and trotted forward, stopping only when her own forelegs were submerged. ”Heya,” she said cheerfully, about to say something snarky in order to tease him about rolling in the water, but she stopped herself. A patch of flesh beneath the white of Cain’s fur was angry and red, as though he had recently been struck. ”What happened? Are you okay?” she asked, now sobered up, and followed him out to the edge of the watering hole to graze. She tentatively reached out to sniff the wound, ready to leap back in case he defended himself, which would have been fair.

She was unused to feeling concern over a stallion, and was reminded of when she had approached him after his loss. This was a similar, but different type of concern, and this time her emotions showed themselves in the form of anger. Who would do something like that to Cain? She knew he had a complicated past, but he was working to fix it, and did not deserve to be punished; she could think of no reason someone might strike the draft stallion. Cerosi flattened her ears as heat rose in her cheeks, and she stamped a front hoof. ”Who did that?” she demanded, her voice harsher than she had intended, but she was too upset to soften her words.