The mangrove trees rose stark around a stream-fed body of water. The doe stopped and wondered; she had expected it to be hard to find a Legendary. There was a reason some considered them nothing but a myth. One hardly warranted that if they were sighted often or by everyone.She had overheard a fair few conversations though. Does speaking of blessings -- with that ever present awe in their voice -- or words of sightings. It was too much to be false. They were seeing something and there would be a bitterness in anyone's voice who found that a blessing was a hoax. There was a grain of truth in any legend. And yet she had found none. Not that it was surprising when she knew so little and had no idea where to look.
"Wherever do you lurk..." she whispered into the air. She looked down and watched her eaglehound take a drink. That -- the water -- was not likely the answer.
In this case, as it turned out, it was the answer. The water rippled, then splattered, as a gray and white caiman surged out from the river. There was a ripple, and then a mare was standing there, peering at her with a sharp-toothed smile. 
