Falls

El Aran the Coward hadn’t been able to venture more than half a mile past the border of the Desert without her heart hammering so hard within her chest she felt it was bound to explode if she tried to reach the nearest oasis. Her black coat had a sheen like the Akhal-Tekes then, lathered in sweat as she was, and she’d been trembling so violently it was a wonder she had been able to make her way back to the ocean and then swim through the heavy water back to the Crossing. Her mind had been devoid of deeper thought as she focused on pumping her legs and keeping afloat. When she finally reached shore it didn’t matter that night was in full swing and the moon hung so low it barely offered any light: El Aran found a secluded patch of open meadow and sunk down in the snow, too, tired even to lock her knees and remain upright, and sank into the deepest sleep she’d had in months.

The arrival of spring saw the seer still on the Crossing. She had not attempted to cross the ocean a second time, not after waking the following morning with muscles so sore she could barely stand and an ache in her chest that reminded her of her overworked heart. El Aran told herself she just hadn’t been strong enough yet for so much exertion, and so she spent the beginning of the season replenishing her reserves. Her dark eyes scanned the Falls often as she kept watch for Maslakhat. Sometimes she ventured back to the beach, but her hooves never touched the saltwater and after an hour or two of staring at Salem without making any forward progress toward the island, El Aran would turn around and go back to the Falls.

It was following one of these ocean-side contemplations that El Aran discovered the bay Akhal-Teke she was waiting for standing in the new grass of the Falls. He held himself well, with the quiet, deadly confidence of the viper he’d surely inherited his genes from, and she flicked her ears back in distaste. She did not want to do this. However, as her first attempt to visit the Desert and confer with Vesti had also been her last, El Aran truly did not have a choice any longer. Pushing her ears forward, the black mare trotted over to Maslakhat and greeted him with a short snort.

"You’re here," she said as if she hadn’t expected him to meet her at all. "Good. Here is my task for you: there is an Arabian mare named A’idah somewhere on these Islands. Find her. If she is with my son, drive her out of the Desert and do whatever necessary to ensure she can never return to Salem. If it’s easiest to kill her, do that." The stare she leveled at him was hard. "Can you handle that, Maslakhat?"