The sound of a fight in the distance drew Ava’s attention. Squeals broke the peace and quiet of the Desert, and the wind carried with it the faint whispering of hooves across sand. Her ears flicked forwards, and her green eyes went wide as she scanned the horizon for signs of the scuffle. Orhan was nowhere to be seen. She wondered whether he was part of the scuffle, and concern flitted across Ava’s expression. What if someone was trying to swoop in and herd all of the mares away? It would not have been the first time such a thing had happened to Ava, and her heart leapt at the possibility. Instinctively, her gaze shot towards her daughter. Ghostwood was playing by herself mid-way up the nearest dune, seeing how far she could scramble up the steepest parts before allowing herself to slide back down through the fine sands with a playful giggle. If she had heard the sounds she had paid them no attention, but then again she could hardly know what trouble sounded like. Regardless, Ava made her way over, unwilling to leave the filly unsupervised for even a second in case her fears became reality. “Ghost,” she called softly as she neared the child. “Come here, come to me.” The white filly looked up at her mother questioningly, wondering why she had come to interrupt her fun so soon, but seeing the worried look on her face she went to her obediently. She even bleated in satisfaction as her mother reached down to nuzzle her cheek in that affectionate way she always did. With her daughter at her side, Ava felt marginally more confident, and with a brave face she led her up the dune, hoping that she might be able to catch a glimpse of the conflict in the distance and have time enough to warn the others and escape if necessary. She was not prepared, however, for the sight that awaited her at the top. When she saw the black and white figure on the horizon, wandering slowly into the Desert, her whole body went cold. She felt sick to her stomach, and for a moment she was certain her legs would collapse beneath her. It was him. He had found her. She was frozen in place, unable to move even though every nerve in her body screamed at her to run – put as much distance between them as possible before he noticed her. But she couldn’t. Her legs refused to move. He would see her soon, standing there like some idiot, and what would he do then? Hurt her again? She couldn’t know, but even if she had to endure it she would not put Ghostwood in the middle of it. “Go back to the oasis,” she said suddenly, shoving at the filly’s rump to hurry her along. The girl’s green eyes were wide with curiosity as she watched the strange man in the distance. Who was he? And why was her mother so concerned about him? He was just walking, wasn’t he? “But –” she began to complain, wanting desperately to stay and find out more. “Now!” Ava hissed. Ghostwood started. Her mother had never spoken to her like that before. Every single word they had ever shared had been soft and gentle. The contrast was so shocking that she didn’t dare to disobey, and with a confused frown she turned away and hurried back down the dune, towards the oasis at the bottom where the rest of the herd was gathered. As Ghostwood disappeared from view, Ava turned back to face the stranger, her head pounding in her chest, loud as thunder in her ears. |