He trailed them. Not because he particularly feared that Shenzi would escape or that Nyimara would come back. Although he never admitted as such to himself in words, Rehoboam felt responsible for them.

He was responsible for Shenzi returning at all. And responsible again for preventing the raid that would have freed her. Even worse, even deeper, he was responsible for the way the little colt had shouldered the responsibility of his mother's imprisonment and blamed himself for their situation when the blame belonged to no one other than Rehoboam. It did not matter that Rehoboam had not been the one to imprison her in the first place. It was his fault she was still here, and his fault that Azizi would grow up here instead of on the sand dunes in which he'd found them.

His fault.

And so he trailed at a distance he hoped was enough to keep him from inciting Shenzi's wrath. It wasn't as though he had much else to do in the Lagoon, save for entertaining Celestine. The witchy little mare had more fight and venom in her than the young grullo truly knew how to deal with, and he couldn't help but wonder if she would become like Shenzi someday. Just as mean, just as bitter, just as distrustful. He hadn't even lasted a full six months in the Lagoon and already his regrets were piling up.

He kept trying to put them aside, to remember that bold, carefree way in which he'd answered Kingbreaker upon his arrival. Reh clung tightly to his mission, even as the likelihood of ever understanding more shrank with each passing day. The Lagoon was not a place that gave up answers easily. It was a land of questions that hung stagnantly over the muggy water like a cloud of mosquitoes, murmuring maybes that never led anywhere.

He hated it here, and yet he could not leave. Not yet. Not until he was certain.

The lean tobiano trailed their scent absently as it wound toward the pool that he'd shown Azizi and a smile flickered to life on his lips at the memory, only to be wiped away as Shenzi's snarl - I know who he is - cut through the still winter air. Rehoboam froze, not certain of who she was talking about. He could make a pretty educated guess, considering how many times he'd inserted himself into their life. However, as to why she would be snarling at the colt who spoke so fondly of the way she smiled sometimes was beyond him. He, who had been raised by a gentle mother who rarely raised her voice, did not understand that gentleness could be buried in a growl. That kindness came in more shapes than those that he had grown up with.

Against his better judgment, he crept closer, his dark-rimmed ears flicking forward and back in uncertainty as he did so. He usually did everything he could to stay out of her notice, but he was worried for the safety of the colt. Despite Azizi's assurances that she was a good mother, and kind to him, Rehoboam struggled to understand their relationship.

He arrived just as the colt disappeared, and his warm gaze tracked the colt's retreating haunches in silence. A part of him wanted to stop there, in the maybe-land where the scarred woman might yet be oblivious to his presence, but he did not. It felt cowardly to shy away from the mare whose life he seemed destined to ruin, even if his will said otherwise.

His courage carried him into her view but no further, nor did it provide enough fuel for any sort of answer to her venous utterance of his name. It allowed him to meet her gaze head-on, and then sputtered out like a flame beneath a glass dome of shame.