Was the girl destined to a life of surprises? Perhaps. Did she ever pay enough attention to her surroundings? Did she ever bother to think that there may be danger in the snow and ice? Of course not. Because fools dream, fools imagine, fools dance through life, but fools do not know reality. Is a fool no better than a madman, then? At the very least, the girl was somewhat aware of her shortcomings. Perhaps this is what saved Kahlua, kept her from life in an Asylum, allowed her the freedom to travel from her homeland and to the icy wastelands of the North. But if her herd had known better, wouldn't they have found a reason to keep the girl home? Sure, a madman may cause chaos and darkness in the world, but is there anything so damaging to the integrity of an organization than one with a loose tongue?

And her surprise came, soon enough, in the form of a unicorn. A simple greeting broke through the sound of winds blowing, a sound that had all but dominated the painted girl's romp through the snowy wasteland. Immediately, she stopped, ears perked, looking towards the bay mare that had intruded on her useless gayety. Although, intruded is not exactly the proper word. If there was ever a moment that Kahlua did not wish for company, it was either that she was sick or dying. And so, eagerly, she moved towards the bay lady with the white fox, her dancing soprano matching her dancing hooves. “Hello, friend!” She sounded hollow in amongst all the snow, and hated it, but surely friendly conversation would warm the air.

As she came closer, her eyes looked to the creature that followed Lena so faithfully. Her heart melted and as she stopped before the bay mare, she couldn't help but express her feelings. The painted girl had never been meant to keep secrets. “Your friend is beautiful,” she said to Lena, her voice in awe. Then, to Imogen herself, Kahlua nodded. “Hello!” Having seen so many around with companions to keep them company, Kahlua was convinced that she wanted one and hoped in her dreams that the gods might one day bless her with a companion of her own. Little did the girl know that having a companion was akin to having a child, at least for a short time, and children were something the painted girl hoped to avoid for the entirety of her life.

As the winds shifted, and Kahlua inhaled, it suddenly occurred to her that the bay mare smelled of the Basin. For an instant, her heart froze as hard as the icy ground she walked upon. Was she in danger? Was she to be ostracized or attacked? Still, she had managed to make it out from the funnel-like entrance to the Basin unharmed. And besides, she saw no hint of malice behind the mare's eyes. Were all of the Basin unicorns as hateful as Farenjar, who had attacked her, leaving a foot-long scar on her left thigh? Or did some of them live peaceful lives even amongst those who rallied for supremacy? If these thoughts entered the girl's head at all, they were fleeting, and yet her heart resumed beating and her lungs resumed breathing. This mare had sounded kind, had looked welcoming, could she really be so bad? “I'm Kahlua,” she managed at last, knowing little of the potential danger that was waiting to come upon her.