As the black mare played in the surf —an unusual activity for the seer, to be sure— she thought of her firstborn son and how easy things had been in the Harbor. Sometimes she missed the territory. She often missed Daenerys, and their shared Spires and the way her silver son had laughed and frolicked in the short grasses of their balmy home. On occasion El Aran even missed Encantador, but she associated him with the Desert now and not with the storm-tossed shores of her previous home. He had been young then, inexperienced and busy with his sire. El Aran could barely remember him with the Harbor as a backdrop— just sands, dirt and drifting heat.
She wondered what Iskelet was up to, and how he fared out in the wider world. He had heard of her desert home and it did not appeal to him. She liked to believe he was exploring kinder places. The black mare breathed a prayer to him as she splashed in the rolling tide. Her legs were soaked through, as was her chest, and she romped further into the ocean to let the water rush across the bottom of her barrel. It felt cold, and for the first time that day she did not enjoy the sensation.
El Aran turned to trot out of the water and nearly stepped on another horse’s leg. She shied away, head up and tail flagged as she rolled a dark eye at the fallen equine. When had he gotten there? She glanced back down the beach. She must have moved further down without realizing it. The horse, who could be in no way a threat to her, lying on his side in a place that did not look intentional, once again had her attention. This time she gave it to him fully, and spat a curse aloud when she recognized the fallen creature as her second son.
"Orhan!" She fell to her knees beside him, apologizing internally for the splash of water she sent across him, and nosed the hollow between his neck and his cheek to check for a pulse. "Live. Live, Skovo damn you, live!”
el aran
Seer of Aşk. |