orhan
While his dam talks, he hangs his head low and pretends to inspect the individual grains of sand under his feet, but he also listens intently. El Aran's words are reassuring, but also puzzling. He doesn't understand how she can always be so sure of everything, be it her place in the world, or where they should forage for food next, or whether a strange horse should be treated as a threat. She is made of much stronger stuff than he believes he will ever have.
Pinning his ears back, Orhan lifts his head and side-eyes his dam. There is frustration creasing his youthful features as he says defiantly, "You should be able to hold power. Blood of my blood, you are the strongest horse I know." Admittedly, he is biased. He is also well aware that he has met few other horses in his young lifetime. But he truly believes that she is far more qualified to call this land her own than him, or any other stallion that has come waltzing into their realm, or that will in the future. It doesn't make sense to him that some invisible force prevents her from doing that.
When she presses her nose against his neck, he closes his eyes and inhales deeply of the humid air in an effort to make himself relax. They have no herd to speak of yet, other than the two of them; therefore, in his mind, there is nothing to worry about. He has time still to grow and learn to be self-confident like his dam, and if they are lucky, this curl-eared stallion will be chased away from the relentless rain and heat of the desert, and they will not have to deal with him again.
yearling; mustang x akhal-teke x arabian; buckskin; 15'1hh wfg; shiva
|