Svetka spent most of her days peering at the ocean, waiting to see the familiar white-spotted coats of her parents bobbing in the waves. They'd been due back for months now - if Nyimara held true to her bargain - and she missed them, desperately. Despite most of the horses in the Inlet being her relatives in some shape or fashion, she hadn't really gotten to know any of them well and her heart had grown lonely in the solitude. Gone was the close-knit herd of the Cove, and in its place was the prospect of huddling up with strangers, one of whom (the dun pinto to whom she knew she wasn't related) made her stomach twist uneasily each time he looked at her.

The loneliness and subsequent stress had wreaked havoc on her system, triggering attacks at the most inopportune times and leaving her sleep cycle less a schedule and more a haphazard guess.

Tonight was no exception, her mind wide awake despite the watchful gaze of the moon over the snowy night. The northern end of Tinuvel had recently weathered a storm and much of the powder was still unmarred by hoofprints, the thick blanket of snow glittering a pale, unbroken white. Svetka loved Tinuvel when it was like this, despite the cold. It made her feel peaceful inside, as though the small, fluttery thing in her chest that triggered her attacks was finally at rest.

She drifted aimlessly through the Inlet, her thoughts far away as she traveled, innately finding and falling into step with the stranger's hoofprints. It wasn't until she spotted the man's freckled rump that she realized that she'd been doing and she froze midstride, her hooves kicking up a scuff of snow. "You don't belong here?" Her voice was less an accusation than a question, her pretty eyes narrowed as she studied the gruff man in the dim light. "Who are you?"