"Orhan." Her son’s name fell from her lips on a sardonic voice. "Orhan has fallen to the enemy. He walks still, and to all appearances seems fine, but be warned, Vesti: his mind has been poisoned by that Arabian."

That stallions she had encountered on the Crossing must surely have been a sign from Aşk. Why else would that orospu have shown up when she did? Why else would her son have ejected her from her home with so little sign of hesitation? It had been many years since El Aran had considered herself homeless. Almost, she considered leaving these Islands altogether and returning to the war-riddled desert that had birthed her. She did not want to leave. If she did, she would be fleeing in the face of her enemy and racing right back into the violence that had brought her to these Islands in the first place. Her presence there would do more harm than good, and so she must stay. Even if she could no longer call this Desert home.

The seer did not recognize the name of the mare Vesti gave her, and she felt a flash of irritation that there should be another mare in the herd that she had no knowledge of. Had Orhan been hiding her? It was possible the fault lay with the mare herself, but El Aran wondered how they had not crossed paths yet. The Desert was an extensive territory but also an inhospitable one. Surely they would have run into one another at one of the oases. Unless, of course, the mare was a new arrival. El Aran’s suspicions remained on her son. Orhan’s decisions lately made no sense and were unlike him. The mare glanced over her dull black shoulder at the thought of her son, but she did not see any silhouette atop the dune or any horse descending toward the oasis.

She turned her head back to her sorrel herd mate. "I cannot stay. Orhan has cast me out of the Desert and this herd and I fear he will turn violent against me if he catches me within these borders still. Be wary, Vesti— that Arabian cannot be trusted. She has turned my son’s mind and he is not himself. Help him. Please, that I may return sooner rather than later and keep these sands free from the tyranny of any Purebreds."

El Aran touched her nose briefly to Vesti’s cheek in silent goodbye. She would not risk endangering her friend to her son’s wrath if Orhan caught them communicating, and so she did not linger. The seer sprang forward and rounded the small pool at a trot before extending her gait to a canter. The sun was hot on her back and the sand under her feet stung her belly as it rose to hang in a cloud behind her, marking her passage out of the Desert.