Cerosi thought of Ironclad often after hearing of his attempt to take her from the Desert. At first it was angry thoughts, almost entirely. A few memories of their time in the Inlet had slipped in, but for a while she discarded those. If he liked her as much as it seemed he had, why would he try to take her? She knew, but refused to face this knowledge, because it brought back sour memories of her life (if you could call it a life) on the Mainland.

At least their time physically together hadn’t been bad, and eventually the anger faded. She couldn’t bring herself to believe he was like the men of her past, though it took some time for her to scrub away (mostly, at least) that idea. Cain helped, just by existing in her life as a positive force, and his kindness was the main thing that ended up soothing her anger. That, and time. Most days her old life felt a hundred years behind her, except for the occasional nightmare she had about it. She grew attached to her new life with Cain and often forgot about the abuse of her childhood. She wasn’t sure if he knew; her attachment was not without physical distance. Cerosi was contradictory in that she preferred solitude, but deep down she was really quite clingy. These two traits managed to exist in harmony, never really leading her to uncertainty over whether or not she wanted Cain’s attention. Some days she did, and she sought it out. Most days, she was content in her own company.

It was one of her usual days of isolation that led Cerosi to trek the beach in the early morning. The sea spray whipped up by the wind cooled her sun-warmed back. It was a pleasant day, and she walked without thinking about much, mostly just enjoying the view until she spotted hoof prints in the wet sand. She wouldn’t have taken much notice, but a second after she saw them, the familiar scent of Ironclad drifted to her from imprinted beach. Cerosi’s ears cupped forward and she flared her nostrils, feeling some type of way but unable to pin down the words to describe her feelings. Turning, the steel gray mare made to follow the prints before they disappeared in the sand.

As it turned out, she would have found him even if the prints had been blown away, along with his scent. Ironclad was not far, and as Cerosi trotted along his trail, she heard the call. Confused, she picked up speed. Was he here to fight for her again? No, he would be calling Cain if that were the case. She hoped he did not intend to try and force her away from the Desert. This was the only home she had ever known, and she was not keen on leaving it.

Still, her feelings upon seeing the graying stallion over the ridge of a dune were largely positive, though she was wary as she slowed to a trot and approached. ”Ironclad,” she said by way of greeting, but also in the tone of a question: what are you doing here?

”It’s been a while,” she said instead. She reached out to exchange breaths with him. Her face was curious, but friendly; she was genuinely happy to see him, and made no attempt to hide this from him. Not that she would have succeeded had she tried. ”How are you?”