Slowly the afternoons in the Dunes grew hotter, and the wavering horizons constantly threatened to prematurely bring back the apparition she knew would one day return to her. Though she seemed to have made amends for now, she lived with the nagging worry that soon she would make a mistake and it would follow her endlessly again, instilling guilt into her and causing her to run again. Even now, when it was absent, she felt the need to take her son and run away from this place, with its shifting piles of sand and oppressing heat. It had been many moons since she had nearly lost her life, but she would not forget the horrible parched feeling or the darkness that spotted her vision.

The only thing Laurel would miss about this place would be the nights. When the moon shone and silvered the sands and oases, and the air was cooler, she could appreciate the beauty of it. But she was not built for such a climate. Her coat, smoother now than in the winter, was still thicker and her body stockier than a desert horse. Glancing at Rowan, she noted that while he’d filled out, the nutrition and fluids here were not quite adequate for the milk production to make him as robust as she knew he could be.

With these thoughts in mind, she had started out the night before with the boy, heading toward the ocean. He was still young, but she was confident they would at the very least make it to the nearest island, which hopefully would have a more forgiving temperature. Stopping once in awhile in order for him to nurse, they made their slow way across the expanse of territory by following the distant roar of the sea. As they moved, she noticed that the scents of the rest of the herd had faded. All the better, for now they were free to leave. Perhaps she would take the colt to the crossing and find Volpe before the pale mare set out for Salem.

The ocean’s waves progressively grew louder, and finally they reached the final hillock of sand. Upon reaching the peak of it, she saw the two creatures on the shore. Flaring her nostrils, she perceived that one was a male. Her ears pinned as she continued down the slope. She presumed the black stallion was here to claim the land, and with it Laurel and Rowan. They were so close to freedom, she did not want to lose it now. Not even stopping to wonder who the other was, or if the pale figure was her friend, she broke into a brisk trot toward the waves. Rowan would likely have trouble keeping up, but her goal was to remain unnoticed. As per usual, she was going out of her way to avoid contact while blatantly refusing to acknowledge the fact that she would never blend in here.