Rade watches the roan mare's approach with guarded eyes, and there is a protective edge to the way he shifts his golden form slightly to the fore of the colt, his hooves sinking in the wet sand. Though not outright aggressive, there is a tension in the woman's body that unsettles Rade; a rigidity of her weathered figure that is both familiar and unrecognizable. It is only when his amber eyes meet the cold, mismatched gaze that the connection is made, and a name is dredged from the depths of his memory - of his youth - to fall from lips that are all but numb with shock.

“Xina.”

Shaken by this revelation, the carefully-erected wall of Rade's composure crumbles. He doesn't even notice that he has grown taller than the bay mare; the stallion feels about as tall as Conquistador as she spits his name with more than enough venom to make up for the lack of any spite in Rade's voice. The speech he had carefully prepared dies on its way to his lips, and the mournful sigh of the waves fills in the brevity of their silence. Had Debonaire truly left his beloved behind? Was she unaware of what had passed? Did she know of his crimes? Rade's thoughts are scattered chaos as he scrambles for an answer to the inevitable question - as he gathers his courage to look this woman in the eye and lie through his teeth.

The truth, after all, would damage them both beyond repair.

But she doesn't ask, at least not yet. Meeting her gaze for the first time in a long moment, he can read in the bitterness of Xina's expression that she assumes Debonaire has abandoned her. Her misguided anger is his savior. Exhaling a barely-restrained sigh of relief, the stallion seeks to ground the turmoil of his emotions by running his lips tenderly over Conquistador's barrel. Tracing every clearly-visible rib. Then, resolve strengthened, he turns back to Xina with a harsh look in his eyes, and an anger to match hers. It is not his most convincing act, but he can only hope that it is convincing enough.

“Apparently Debonaire has no need of heirs - he left this colt. Would you abandon him to die, too?”

The hardness in his voice, in his expression, soften now. The cold amber eyes turn liquid, molten with the intensity of emotion that infuses his husky voice as his gaze travels over the hardened, bitter lines of her face with genuine concern. What could reduce a woman renowned for her strength to such ruin?

“Xina, what happened to you?”

stallion // mongrel // 15.1hh // 5 // palomino roan // reba
debonaire x neassa