So much time had passed, and Ofelia had let it slip away. The little red mare had adjusted better than she’d expected to the chilling climate of Tinuvel, and that was largely in part thanks to Solomon, who’d gone out of his way for her, and the kindness of a few of his mare’s who’d made her feel welcomed. In truth, as much as she’d missed Xiomara, and the warmth of the Shore, and how alive Atlantis was, the paso fino found herself falling in love with the Cove. Not the place, but the horses that called it home. For the first time in her life, she found herself dwelling on her past without fear, and she imagined that - if her father hadn’t been a beast and her mother had lived to watch her grow up - it might have been something like this - a large, bustling herd, and she might have been happy.

That wasn’t to say she hadn’t been happy in the Shore - it was just a different sort of happy.

The illusion was inevitably shattered. An enemy had reached across the straits to snatch something that was precious to King Solomon. And suddenly, Ofelia felt lost. She still felt safe, tucked away in the inland caves and forested areas, never straying too far from the other mares. But it seemed impossible now, to ask Solomon to make the journey to Atlantis and reveal Ofelia’s deception. How could she ask this of the noble soul who’d acquiesced for her, not knowing the whole truth, or how it would change things between them and Xiomara when it all came out.

Solomon needed to protect his own, especially now, with winter preparing to sink into the stone, and a number of mares under his care who were carried the promise of new life in their bellies.

It filled Ofelia with such shame, seeing them. How could she speak to any of them of what she’d done? Of how she’d abandoned her child into the care of one of Solomon’s daughters, vanishing herself out of Xiomara’s life, when she was one of the few souls the Shore Queen still had left. Imagine her shock and surprise when Xiomara showed up of her own accord. Though first filled with relief and joy that her beloved Queen had found her way back, Ofelia’s heart quickly wilted with trepidation. What if… What if, after all the hurt she’d surely caused, Xiomara didn’t want to see her.

It had been a betrayal of sorts, one that would have cut ever so much deeper after Angel’s disappearance.

And so, Ofelia resigned herself to watching from a distance that first day, not wanting to ruin the beauty of Xiomara and Solomon’s reunion with her treachery. The next day, again, she watched and waited. “Mañana,” she’d whisper to herself, each morning as soon as she opened her eyes. The rest of the day would be spent in dread, that any moment she’d be discovered. Ofelia drifted further and further inland, but she need not have feared. Xiomara was as she remembered her; spirited, ever vigilant, and generous in her protection, even when it did not feel truly deserved. She lived in the hope that Xiomara would stumble upon her, to save her cowardly heart from trying to muster up the courage, but, the roan warrioress roamed far and wide, and Ofelia was too crafty in her concealment.

Today was not the first day the little red dun had ventured from her self-imposed isolation. She feared soon some from among Solomon’s herd would come looking for her - the warm, gentle Maia, or the quiet, scarred mare Banshee, and even after all this time, Ofelia hadn’t found the words they deserved to hear. So she distanced herself ever further. The whole island was safe, that’s what Halcyon, had told her, and though with the passing of seasons some things had changed, it still rang true enough. The Arch through which she wandered was governed by one of Solomon’s sons, and the dainty mare knew that she would find safe passage.

But any plans she may have had for potentially meeting Suleiman or any of her his, a cry shattered the stillness of Tinuvel, and it turned Ofelia’s blood to ice in her veins. She staggered at the sound, her lungs clenching in her chest so that she painfully gasped for air. Terror flooded her mind, but not fear for herself. The paso fino would know that call anywhere. Ofelia was moving before she realised, running blindly without thought, and nothing mattered except getting to Xiomara’s side. If the roan mare was in trouble, as the cry had indicated - the pain in it echoed jarringly in the red mare’s mind. She did not know how far she’d strayed - that the safety of the Arch fell behind as she encroached ever deeper into the Inlet.

Only when her energy was spent did Ofelia stop, and she cast her narrow face around desperately, blinded by tears of fear and frustration. No, no, if something had happened and she lost Xiomara now, without having found the courage to face her, without one more lo siento… The trembling dun creature would never forgive herself.

Just as she opened her jaw to cry out, another scream pierced the air, one that had Ofelia tensing to flee. But she held fast, and rushed instead towards the malicious snarl, bursting through the last thin belt of trees and all but slamming into Xiomara’s side. Just in time, she managed to scrabble to a stop, but her hooves came out from beneath her, so that the skin of her knees scraped along dirt and stone.

With wide, watery eyes, Ofelia looked up into the face of the one she loved. "Mi Corazón?" The whisper was soft, and full of uncertainty. Not that it was Xiomara - no dreams or memories or imaginings carried the same presence as the real thing, Ofelia felt the realisation trembling through her, and the ground beneath them no longer felt quite so stable. The concern was whether Xiomara was hurt (and the moment Ofelia acknowledged this, she berated herself, of course Xiomara was hurt, Angel had left them, and then Ofelia had left her - never mind that she’d always meant to come back). And the fear. The fear that sent the tears spilling down her cheeks was that, after what Ofelia had done, Xiomara might no longer look at her with such light in those brilliant blue eyes.

The moment seemed to drag by, but eventually, Ofelia pulled herself away from the familiar gaze (and every unspoken thing it contained), distracted by the strange mare encroaching, her posture as hostile as her cry had been. The small paso fino hastily scrambled to her hooves, ears pinned as she turned her fever-bright tiger eyes upon the grey. "Don’t you touch her!" The warning quavered in the air between them, charged with emotion. Ofelia felt her breath coming hard and fast, and her body tensed, trying to fight against the urge to run.

It was not the way Ofelia would have liked to reveal herself to Xiomara, but, the relief that rushed through her in the tense moments that followed was so intense that the small mare swayed on her hooves. Not matter how things unfolded, at least the spirit of Ofelia would no longer slowly be suffocating on all the secrets she had carried with her for far too long.