El Aran’s reaction to being woken made his muscles tighten instinctively, and his gut flip-flopped with guilt. “I am sorry,” he apologized, and touched her cheek as if to say ‘all is well’. He waited for her breathing to slow, and glanced across the glassy black waters of the oasis to where the chestnut mare rested, to check that she had not been woken by the slight sound of their interaction.

“I just wanted to ask,” the young stallion continued quietly, and kept his dark eyes trained on Vesti, tracing and retracing the shapes of her body and checking her ears for any sign of wakefulness. He hesitated. “I wanted to ask... what do you think of her? Is she trustworthy?”

His heart told him she was, but Orhan had grown up trusting his mother’s senses more than his own, and the conflict of his hopeful heart and doubting head had kept him awake for too many nights now. Once he knew El Aran’s views – positive or negative – he would no doubt rest easier, and feel better prepared with how to handle their guest when it came time for her to leave.