 Evren feels haunted by death and grief. It seems to follow her wherever she goes, like a weight on her shoulders that wants to press her into the earth. Everywhere she looks, she sees traces of its presence - she sees it in the yellowed grass that is shriveling in the absence of the overdue rains, and in the bodies of dying flies as they cluster among the edges of the water. She cannot help but wonder if the desert has always been so full of death, and whether she is only just now beginning to notice it.
Perhaps the deaths of her father and brother had simply opened her eyes to it.
Whatever the reason, Evren finds that it makes poor company. Thus her heart lifts with hope when, from across the sweltering sands, a call reaches her one day. She slides into a practiced ground-eating trot, her white-streaked tail flagged and her ears pricked to attention, and travels in the direction of the sea. Just when the scent of salt has assailed her nostrils, the sight of the visitor materializes before her: it is a stocky red mare, her pelt flecked with white and her bearing businesslike.
Evren flashes the mare a confident smile and comes to a halt in the sand before her, her nostrils fluttering with only the barest hint of breathlessness. "Welcome to the Desert. You called, madam?"
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