The second Phoebe had realized the letter had come from Jarek, she had screamed. There had been no containing the excitement that shot through her in that moment, but she'd been too high in the clouds then to care how many of her neighbors or passersby had been startled or concerned by the noise. The summons had thrown her into a flurry of activity in preparation for their timely meeting, and, when all had been done, left her wallowing in impatience until it came time for her to depart without seeming overly eager--never mind the fact she absolutely was. But she had a certain pretense she wished to keep up, a desire to show off her most dazzling self now that she felt a little more sure in her own skin, and she had carefully choosen a time and direction that would show the least on her frame by the time she arrived. Now, as she reached the edge of the Solterra Court, she thought she'd done a decent job of it. Her sunset colored coat wasn't nearly so streaked with sweat or smelled so strongly of exhaustion; if anything, it still retained faint traces of the leafy soaps she now used with regularity thanks to the Adonis of the desert who introduced them to her. Her mane had been painstakingly rearranged into her best recreation of how Jarek had bound it for her during their initial meeting, roped into colorful bundles that rested against her neck and kept the long strands out of the way. After all, she was a soldier, and this was how soldiers were supposed to wear their manes--and tails, though the best she'd been able to do after not seeing clearly how Jarek managed that part was to plait it halfway and create its own sort of lazy bun.
She didn't feel quite so ethereal as she had when the stallion beautified her himself, but it was a strangely close second, and the confidence carried with her as she traversed the afternoon desert for the canyon. She reached up with her telekinetic hand for the piece of paper tucked within one of the binds on her mane, removed the letter sent to her, and reviewed the map on its other side once more. Taking quick stock of her surroundings again, Phoebe nodded with surety to herself. "Just as I thought. This way," she murmured, tucking the paper away again and proceeding forward into the canyon. In the fading evening light, the colors of the rocks seemed to mute and dull, the reds giving ways to purple and plums that drew smiles to her as she passed through them. Again it struck her how a place so desolate and barren could hide such unadulterated beauty within it.
Rounding another bend in the canyon, the little starry-speckled mare thought she saw shapes ahead, one dark and moving amidst a series of others. Her heart leaped and caught in her throat, and for a brief moment nerves overtook her. Was that him? Was that Jarek? Would he look as gorgeous as he had when she first met him? Would his piercing blue eyes, his winsome smile, have the same effect on her as they did that day? Would she live up to the memory of her he'd taken with him when they went their separate ways? Rather than be repelled by the jittery thoughts, they spurred her forward, and Phoebe couldn't stop herself from grinning outright in anticipation. Hopeful but also not wanting to spoil the quiet mystique of the moment, she called out to him in a soft, almost timid voice, "Jarek? Is that you?"
