Maslakhat stretches his legs, relieved to have his hooves upon the welcoming firmness of land. The sand was hot, but it felt like home and the Akhal-Teke was glad that his long swim across the ocean had resulted in the arrival of a familiar landscape. It may not be his desert, but it wasn’t Zenith’s either—and this was good.

He decided to put off his task for now—seeing no reason why he should be quick to obey a stallion that wasn’t even here. Plus, he was rather enjoying his freedom from Zenith’s oppressive tendencies. Maslakhat realized that he’d been given a rare chance to reinvent himself here—to be exactly the stallion he knew he could be. It would be easy. For now.

“Gözden uzak olan gönülden de uzak olur,” he says aloud, grinning to himself.

Who knows, maybe he was closer to tracking down his half-brother than he thought. He could even be among these very dunes, wandering around aimlessly as Maslakhat imagined blind horses might do. Looking for Yusuf was a good excuse to roam where he pleased, the stallion decided, just in case he needed one.

Maslakhat strolls along casually, his coat damp from the swim with an even higher sheen than usual. He can tell this place is inhabited—there are hoof prints in the sand and scents on the wind. There is not a single cloud in the sky today, and the bay stallion believes this is a good omen. With his head high and ears up, he keeps his eyes trained on the horizon for anyone who might come and greet him.


MASLAKHAT
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