Only to find another inside, like those silly nesting reindeer figures that were so popular in the eastern steppes. This layer was a vast spectrum of smell—sweat and dirt and water and fir trees blending into a uniform cologne. She dropped another layer and was assaulted with a bedlam of noise. She poked through two more before giving up; she could potentially trap herself in the dream and not be able to escape until the stallion woke. It was unlikely, but possible.