The call hardly reached Celestine where she remained, tucked away, in the depths of the jungle. Her ears prick forward and she cranes her muscular neck, trying to pinpoint the source of the call. It is clearly Rehoboam, but where he is, Celestine cannot determine.

With a groan, the thickly-built mare rises to her feet and shakes away the earth caught in the alabaster waves of her mane. She is lucky when a second call rings out to follow the first; her head snaps to the side, and she feels now that she has a much better idea of where to find Rehoboam. She takes off at once, winding her way through the jungle with impressive agility for a mare her size. She slows her pace when she sees the imposing form of Temblor through the trees, and the voice of Rehoboam as he negotiates with the Paradise King.

“Hello, Reh. I was just going to come and get you from the Dunes when I ran into Temblor,” she says pleasantly as she slips from behind the gray stallion. Despite her playful words, Celestine knows there is no doubt that her presence here was fought for and won, rather than a lighthearted detour.

She is both pleased to see Rehoboam and irritated all the same; she cannot deny that she is attached to the tobiano stallion, but she does not appreciate being tossed around like a toy. She knows it isn’t Reh’s fault; she is more frustrated with the situation as a whole, and with herself for creating a bond with someone in the form of a living child in the midst of all of this chaos. Her life has become far more complicated than Celestine ever had a taste for in the time since she had fallen pregnant.

At Rehoboam’s proposal of a trade, Celestine falls silent. Though she is the subject of such a negotiation, the draft mare doubts her input will be of any help. To fight for oneself and still lose is more frustrating than just sitting back and letting the cards fall where they may, so the painted woman withdraws from the conversation, shifting ever so slightly back into the shadows.