The buckskin stallion stood tall and alert as A’idah drank, his sinewy neck stretched to its full length and his ears twisting to and fro atop his head like anxious little satellite dishes. Yet moments passed and the oasis was still, with no sign of either El Aran or Vesti: only the lazy buzz of flies dancing across the surface of the water. This is strange, he thought, for it was unlike his herd to completely disperse without explanation or warning. He resolved to keep his voice quiet, however – just in case they were around, and were only resting just out of sight. He tilted his chin up and opened his nostrils to test the air, but any lingering scents were stale and useless.
By then he was desperate for a drink and could wait no longer. Stepping lightly, he neared the water and drank long and deep without letting his attention lapse. Sweat still clung unpleasantly to every curve and crevice of his creamy coat. Had the purebred mare not been there, he would have ploughed into the oasis and enjoyed the refreshment of the relatively cool water, but as it was, he was not sure he would have felt comfortable letting his guard down in such a way even if she had not been a purebred. He still was not even one hundred percent relaxed around Vesti yet, and she had been here a full year now.
Lifting his head from the oasis, he took a moment to side-eye A’idah and suddenly noticed for the first time that she had grown increasingly, visibly anxious, as though his own heightened nervous state had become infectious. Either that, or she knows something I don’t. He continued to eye her quietly for a few moments while the water dripping from his chin dried quickly in the arid desert air. His breathing had slowed, and now it seemed he was almost holding his breath as he posed her with a question. “That word you said before – what does it mean?”
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