Şahin flattened his ears as if offended and mouthed a bite at her cheek, but was careful only to lip at her skin. “Gray hairs? Fah! Wait until you’ve had a child or two and they start looking at you like your bones are going to fall apart any moment, then come to me asking about gray in my mane.” He shook out his hair and splashed one hoof in the tide as he added, “I’m going to live forever, you know, so you’d better watch your tone or I won’t share all my many years of wisdom with you.” It felt good to joke and to laugh under the sun, and he grinned at his daughter, pleased he could share these moments with her. He sobered a bit when she asked after the pale Akhal-Teke. “Dia’s fine,” he reassured Mera. “So’s the colt. Sokka. I’ve a hunch he’ll be as strong-willed as his mother,” Şahin laughed.

The stallion lifted his head when she challenged him to a race. “Oh?” he said archly, then launched himself away from her and galloped down the beach. Her comment about gray strands in his mane had struck a deeper chord than he realized. Şahin took comfort in each stretch of his legs and the wind that whipped up his hair and strung his tail out behind him. He was still mobile, still active and capable of extending his body’s reserves to the fullest without feeling any twinges or pains. He was young yet, only what, fifteen? Plenty of years left to live, and with all the knowledge he’d gained through experience to supplement them. Şahin slitted his eyes against the wind and the sand he kicked up as he thought of Azaleya, and his heart pumped more strongly for remembering her. He did not look back to see if Mera was catching up. If she was about to overtake him, he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him check on her progress.