She does not see the stallion disappear, merely comes under the realization that he is not there, that his form has somehow vanished back into oblivion. The knowledge trickles through her mind and is filed away: she is still too fascinated by the puzzle to broaden her awareness, focus her attention on the creatures who surround her. If only she took a moment to look, perhaps she would recognize the mare from her youth, draw together a memory of carefree days beneath fragrant trees, of herd meetings and warm crowds... but then, perhaps not. It is long since the fire child walked within the mist. She has painted new memories, filled her mind with new tales.

Her dark gaze leaves the basket to settle on the mare, one ear turning uncertainly as her suggestion is repeated back. The tinkling laughter which follows is more unsettling; the girl takes a cautious step back, unsure, silver forelock drifting in front of black eyes. Is the mare insulted, or does she think the girl dumb? Frustration begins to bubble beneath her skin, an irrational ire brought upon herself; and from her back Natraj growls low, a soothing sound as he licks her withers, claws digging into the skin on her spine. Breath escapes from its catch in her throat. Calm down.

Blinking back her growing ire, the girl inhales, filling her lungs. Endless eyes follow the mare's blue sky gaze, tracing the lines of the basket she wields, considering it closely through the mare's bright voice. The more she thinks about it, the more she considers that Kahlua might be right- better, perhaps, to start from scratch. A clean container, pristine and pure, unsullied by sundry objects and wayward germs. What do you think? she asks Natraj, but the boy is caught again by the little blue dragon, ignoring his sister in favor of a new friend. Thin fire lashes from his cream-tipped tails as he presses his chest against her back, hindquarters raised in a display of friendship. The flames dance with the sparks which float gently around his sister, and he waves them eagerly as if to challenge, Can you do that?

The girl sighs, and shakes her head.

Gold slashed face turns up to the mare, a thoughtful softness on the delicate features. She is beginning to believe that the paint is sincere, that she truly believes Tandavi has an answer- and what can the girl possibly do but oblige? It does not occur to her that maybe she cannot find a solution, that she is too young, to fiercely naive. Somebody needs her. She cannot back down.

"Yes," she says carefully, an answer to both questions, a thoughtfully chewed out syllable. She searches the mare's face for answers, for ideas, mind churning fast and words falling slow. "The water would stay clean with a seal... but how would you purify it to start?" She exhales absently, a cloud of sparks forming around her head, painfully unaware of how close the answer was. Right in front of her face, really.

Tandavi