She was attired almost exactly as her brother Marcos had been when he’d visited last week. Her black cloak stretched almost to the floor, completely covering her from her shoulders to her hind fetlocks. The immense hood seemed to swallow up her crest and poll, hanging menacingly over her brow. What little of her wasn’t obscured by the black fabric -- her muzzle, really -- was strapped down with a leather chanfron.