"Zaman sana uymazsa sen zamana uy."
Al-Hattaal bristled with trepidation as his eyes shone with both caution and confusion at the sight of the bloodmarked Akhal-Teke before him, walking the earth as if such an act was of no consequence. Flicking his ears backward momentarily and readying his lightning quick reflexes for a fight if necessary, it was Avangeline’s airy voice that brought his mind back from the brink of assault. Do you know her?
Keeping on ear and eye fastened to the subject of his disquiet, he offered his buckskin companion a portion of his attention, however briefly. In a low voice, he answered shortly.
“No.”
Frankly, the black stallion was not sure he wanted to know the bloodmarked mare. He entertained the idea of running, despite what he had been taught—to stand and fight in the face of all threats. He knew he was faster than her, but Avangeline was still young, propped up on spindly legs that were not equipped for sudden bursts of speed in the way his were. He couldn’t leave her behind, not after he had offered her his protection. And despite only having known her a short time, the thought of disappointing another mare burned at his gut like sour weeds.
And then the impious Akhal-Teke saw them, calling out in a language he did not understand. Al-Hattaal’s full attention returned to her, and he tensed as he watched her eyes linger on his companion. Did they know each other? Was this some elaborate Akhal-Teke ruse? Growing agitated, he spoke with a sternness that no doubt indicated he would not be so easily fooled.
“You speak in tongues, sahte kahin.”
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