As the grey whisper of dawn broke each day, the young stallion completed a short routine he’d fallen into over the last few weeks. First, he opened his eyes and located his mother’s whereabouts. Then, with a yawn and shake of his mane, he stumbled up the nearest dune and looked out over his home in every direction, examining every shadow and curve of the sand to make sure they had no unexpected visitors. Sometimes, there was a pale little fox with big ears scittering into a distant burrow, or a great broad-winged vulture drifting overhead, but rarely was there anything more. Next Orhan would look south, towards the sliver of ocean to see what color it was that day, though usually he woke so early that it was little more than a black border on the horizon.

Then he looked for Vesti, fully expecting that she would have up and disappeared during the night. And each day, he was surprised to find that she was still there.

They had been co-existing peacefully with the chestnut wanderer, but thus far, there had been little meaningful interaction between them. Orhan had thought of engaging her in conversation nearly every day she had been here – questioning her about her life, and in general just getting to know her better – but each time he told himself he would do it, the words caught in his throat. Soon enough he began to wonder. Am I intimidated by her? It was not a pleasing realization, and one especially he would have hated for his mother to find out about; thus, he could only hope the two mares were interpreting his silence as mere stoicism. Better a stereotypical stallion than a pitiful, mewling colt.

The determination to fix it never left him, however, especially once he found out that Vesti had El Aran’s seal of approval. He was intrigued by her.

It was a humid evening, and storm clouds loomed heavy and threatening in the distance. The electricity in the air had made him antsy, and so the buckskin had expended some of his excess energy with a quick circuit of his home, checking for scents and lathering himself into a sweat. He arrived back at the main oasis breathing hard and fast, and made straight for the shore to cool himself with a long drink. Flies danced on the water, and thunder rumbled in the distance as the last of the setting sun set the dunes aglow with golden light. It was then that he heard the voice – her voice, specifically – and, looking up, he spied the chestnut mare on the far side of the oasis with her head hanging over her reflection. Was she talking to herself?

Concerned, the stallion continued to watch Vesti as water dripped steadily from his dark muzzle and his breathing began to slow. When she lifted her hoof and stomped in the water as if to squash something, his curiosity got the better of him. Orhan meandered his way over to her, arcing around the foliage-choked shore, and stopped a few paces away. From there, he could see nothing lurking beneath the ripples of Vesti’s reflection, but he would give her the benefit of the doubt. “What is it? Are you all right?”