His ears twisted at Nasmat’s words, but he did not stir from his preoccupation over examining the foal until he heard: “None survive.”

The stallion’s head shot up, and he stared at the grey mare with incredulity. The weight of her words - the dreadful implication that this child would not survive - outweighed the fact that the lead mare had the gall to say such a thing at all. Orhan twisted his ears back, anger flaring in his stomach, but before either he or Ava could verbally respond to Nasmat’s prophetic prediction of death, she continued, this time with something even more outrageous.

Just as he had seen Ava anew moments before, as she had stood up for herself, now he saw Nasmat anew. And he did not like what he saw.

As Ava had her say, Orhan held his gaze level with the lead mare’s. His brown eyes were like chips of flint. “Nasmat, have some sensitivity,” he snapped as soon as Ava had finished talking, and took a step diagonally toward her, bringing him between her and the foal, whom he could feel stirring in the sand at his hooves.

It was tempting to strip her of her title then and there.