El Aran’s ears turned back and her eyes continued to dart about their surroundings as her son lay panting at her feet. Part of her mind felt heavy with grief but she blocked it out, ignored it. There would be time to mourn later, when she was safe and after the ocean had dragged his corpse off the sands. Orhan was still alive and there was no sense in letting her emotions overrun her now, when at any moment they could be set upon. The seer liked to think she would fight to the death for her son, but given her past experiences in the desert she knew she would not. El Aran would leave him there, abandon him to the threat and retreat if it was evident she could not win.
All this rumbled through her thoughts like an avalanche of hooves while her pale son worked up the energy to get to his feet. The black mare operated on instinct now, her movements smooth and confident as she prepared herself for the possibility of the worse. When Orhan’s legs failed him and he fell to his knees, she noted it as indifferently as if she were tallying up the tasks to be done for the day. He would not be able to run if they were chased, but perhaps his body would slow the attackers down. Maybe he’d have the sense to kick their legs out from under them, send them sprawling so hard across the sands that the desert rubbed the skin right off their bones and left raw, shining pink patches of flesh for the sun to sear and the wind to prick with a thousand tiny particles until they healed.
El Aran swung her body around so that it paralleled her son and she could catch him with her shoulder if he fell again. She would not be able to sustain his entire weight, but she could at least slow his fall. Her head was up, ears and eyes still actively checking for trouble as Orhan stumbled forward. The black mare walked a step ahead of him but at his pace, moving slowly enough that he would not feel rushed. It was a long walk and the sun was hot, but at least the wind was calm and they were not buffeted by as much sand as usual.
By the time they reached the oasis, every muscle in the skinny mare’s body felt knotted and tight. The familiar sight of the pool and shrubs did little to relax her, and once she was sure Orhan could carry his own weight to the pool and some shade without her hovering, she stepped away from her son and looked out to scan the horizon. There were no dust clouds, no dark silhouettes. No one waiting to ambush them.
Another horse might have felt foolish for her paranoia, but the seer gave a satisfied snort and let her attention slacken a bit. She did not close her eyes and kept one ear trained behind her, on her son, but she did slow her breathing to a more meditative pace as she began to pray. The words she murmured calmed her heart and reduced her fears and slowly, painfully, her muscles began to loosen.
el aran
Seer of Aşk. |