It was strange to think, under the heat of the glaring sun, that Sova still had the sort of dark eyes that found a spot somewhere on the other mare’s skin and stared with an intensity that could have been uncomfortable for anyone else. Perhaps, El Aran was a stronger character than the smoky mare, for she appeared to flourish in the desert instead of looking as though she were slowly starving, like the newcomer.

Still, with a quiet look, Sova assumes that she too can get used to the heat and the sand, if she were welcomed by the herd and Encantador himself. She wants to stay, she really does, but it is the anger of the sun that seems to be trying to push her away.

“Thank you.” Sova replies to the other mare’s welcome with a grateful voice, casting her eyes down to the water around her body once more as she leans forwards to touch her lips to the surface, breathing carefully so as to not inhale water, she tries to let her mouth retain as much water as possible, now that her thirst has been satiated. Maybe one day, once the girl of Tinuvel blood had climatized to the desert, she too would have some sort of fiery passion that burned inside if she were to be cornered or threatened… but that was likely a long way off.

The question of how Sova met the dunskin stallion arises, and she pauses to think for a moment. “He found me… he was broken and angry. I wanted to see his good side… my curiosity brought me here.” She speaks honestly, not afraid to share her story with this mare that seems so at ease in this place. Eyes turning back to the dark skinned mare, scanning her body in silence before speaking up with her long question. “How are you so comfortable here, El Aran?”

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