Falls

mhysa

By the time Mhaerys had consumed the day's kill, the white mare had followed the thread of her thoughts to its end, her pale eyes staring sightlessly across the land. The certainty she had sought in the muddled depths of her memory was as evasive as shadows beneath the twilit sky. When the sun shone equally on every facet of truth - and the gods did not appear to favor one path over another - it was the blind who led the sighted. The veiled eyes of the nareesi could see further than any, from the lowest faqir to the esteemed Amīr. Unchained from the fetters of the physical world, seers alone were granted vision of the future.

But what if the nareesi had seen wrong? Could sightless eyes be shrouded by shadows?

A tiny shiver traveled down the Teke's spine as she considered the prophecy for which she'd been named; the future her mark had foretold. Two tribes will become one, the seer had spoken with her final breaths. But the nareesi who had risen from her ashes had insisted that peace there would ever be peril, and that only annihilating the Arabs could ensure the future of their tribe. Flattening her ears in frustration, Mhysa tore a scar in the earth with one hoof, and then reared to tear another in the darkening sky. The gods were cruel; they had led the pale mare to the Islands, and abandoned her there with neither path nor purpose to follow.

Then, as her body arced slowly back to the earth, she saw them.

Watching the golden Teke interact with the Arab stallion, Mhysa wondered whether the darkness was deceiving her. Her white ears turning outward in uncertainty, she waited for the first blows to fall with bated breath - but they did not come. And so she looked deeper, setting her preconceptions aside to witness the subtle bond veiled beneath their brief exchange of words. Unbidden, her thoughts turned to A'idah and the tense truce that had slowly yielded to understanding.

It seemed that she was not the only one who sought peace with her enemies.

The tips of her ears pointed forward now, and Mhysa took a tentative step toward the pair, calling out to them in a voice that was both curious and cautious. "Mhaerys ihmi'ana," she said, her gaze lingering on the Teke's golden coat. It was not a color often seen among her tribe; most of her people were painted in shades of red to match the bloodstained sands of their home.

mare | seven years | bloodmarked grey | akhal-teke | 16hh