She had lingered for some weeks now, so it had seemed. Even in the heat of the day, it seemed that she could stand out in the sun without feeling as though she should be ready to expire because of the warmth. Sova had learned quickly that there was water almost anywhere, and through the act of watching the desert bird she had met that day at the watering hole (she was quiet and stared from her little hidey hole), she had seen that, if desperate enough, she could set her hooves to the earth and dig for the moisture that would satiate her thirst.

So, as Sova wanders closer to the ocean, she is not entirely startled to see the golden skinned stallion standing with his eyes turned to the sea. Instead, she finds herself standing far to the side and staring, as was a hereditary trait she had been gifted from her father.

Admiring the stallion from a distance for some time, she is awoken from her gazing by the sudden cry of a gull, which yanks her head to the side and forced her to look out into the vast emptiness of the water, where she assumes there are things that live under the caps of the waves and the vast blue-grey sky. After another few moments, she finally turns her attention back to Encantador and finds, with strange curiosity, that he still has not moved in the short time that Sova has sighted him. With little provocation needed, she takes up a walk and approaches him, stepping quietly along the edge of the coast, where the seawater licks against the sand.

Meeting him perpendicularly, she stands with her chest close to his barrel for a moment or two because twisting her body to the side so as to stand parallel. Feeling awkwardly too close to the stallion, she can sense that something is wrong, and so she points it out with a soft voice. “Something is wrong.” Like before, when she had quietly pointed out that she found the stallion to be broken, she stands quietly beside him, almost waiting for the storm of his sadness to be manifested with anger.

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