The chestnut stallion has retreated, having turned his back on the other two horses and disappearing into the desert; leaving Sova to have her seemingly intimate and brief moment with the grullo stallion.

With dark eyes following the chestnut as he leaves them, she droops her eyelids a bit, narrowing her eyes and squinting against the bright, yellow sun that scours over the desert. It doesn’t take long the the haze of heat to swallow up Mellow’s body, making it seem as though he had never been, like he had never existed. Strange. Flicking her gaze back to Encantador, she catches his miniscule smile that tugs so very lightly at his lips, and she feels the gentle, sweeping tug of a small smile at her own lips. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try.” She says in her smooth voice, still staring.

At some point, he addresses the desert, and she peeks around him to look at the dry, desolate wasteland. Had she eyebrows, she would have quirked one with mock interest, pretending to be impressed and assuming that he was joking when he had welcomed her here. The desert, of all places, was not meant for the Tinuvel born and bred mare. In another moment, he mentions something of speaking alone, and she stares at him. “I imagine you did not hear him leave.”

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