He blinked at her and twisted his ears back when she informed him that he had been talking in his sleep. Somehow, it did not surprise him. The dream had been so vivid, so real... He wondered briefly what it was exactly he had said, but when Vesti did not elaborate, he gave a decisive exhale and unfolded his stiff black legs beneath him, hooves sloshing in the water as he stood up beneath the rocky overhang. It must not have been anything important. Or perhaps I was speaking in Ana’s mother tongue.

Suddenly he was a little cramped and uncomfortable, standing there ankle-deep in stagnant lukewarm flood water with his hindquarters pressing against rough stone. “I’m fine,” he reassured the chestnut mare, and stepped a few paces past her, out onto the hard-packed wet sand and into the rainstorm. Within seconds he was drenched, his pale golden coat soaked a darker, almost bronze color, and the contrasting black and white hairs of his mane plastered flat against the sinew of his neck. He stood like that for a short time, cocking one hind leg leisurely and letting his bottom lip droop. The cool pinpricks of rain on his skin were refreshing, and slowly drew him from the depths of his sleep-derived grogginess. Sometimes it was good just to get wet.

“Have you ever seen snow?” he finally asked, and though his eyes were distant, staring out across the rippling grey surface of the oasis, his voice was thoughtful.