His ears were pointed towards A’idah as she replied to his question, but when she dropped the ‘A’ word they twisted backwards again, and he dipped his still-wet chin toward his chest. “There are no Arabians here,” he answered, a little bluntly, and yet again, suspicion hardened his heart. He was unsure what she had meant exactly by her question, and it made him wonder if she thought he was some strange sort of Arabian himself. His head was not dished – not as much as his mother’s, anyhow, but even her profile paled in comparison to a purebred like A’idah’s – and his stature was not as fine or floaty as a purebred’s, so he did not think she could have mistaken him for one.
While he continued to mentally chew on what she had said, he noticed a sudden, fleeting expression of woe harden the lines of her face, but as soon as it had arrived, it was gone, leaving him to wonder if he had merely imagined it. Her second question he again found a little odd, and his stomach tightened defensively. He knew some words of his mother’s native tongue, but he had never been comfortable speaking it continuously. Though it rolled off the tongue nicely, even his mother only spoke it when her heart was at its most passionate, and so he only spoke it infrequently, or when addressing El Aran. He most certainly would not divulge its secrets to a purebred.
He flicked his tail and raised his head. “You speak the island tongue well; is it not adequate enough for you?” His voice was terse, though more out of annoyance than true offense. He was beginning to think that this creature – though worthy of vehemence in his mother’s eyes – was not so much dangerous as she was perhaps a little bit clueless. Orhan snorted and took a moment to turn his head to and fro, to check their surroundings again. This time his eye caught movement, and he angled his body to see it all the better.
Trotting down the shifting slope of a nearby dune was chestnut Vesti. Orhan exhaled a little sigh of relief, but did not relax completely; he did not even offer his herdmate a smile as she approached, only a curt nod. Vesti, to his knowledge, did not yet know about his family’s rocky relationship with purebreds; therefore, he would need to tread lightly. Thankfully she did not make straight for them, instead stopping along another bend in the oasis to drink, as if to give them their space. “No,” he replied, and before either of the mares could attempt to start a conversation with one another, continued, “She was just leaving.” If Vesti is here now... what if Ana is just behind her?
Looking back to the Arabian, Orhan’s tail continued to lash back and forth as his dark eyes roamed her face. Fresh sweat was breaking out all along the sides of his pale gold coat, and once again he began to shift his weight restlessly. “Have you had your fill?”
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