Orhan

Koray watched helplessly as his father stepped away to speak more privately with the older mare, effectively leaving him alone with the strange filly. He watched her warily, green eyes roaming her face and ears splayed sideways. At her suggestion, he wrinkled his nose. Curious as he was about this stranger, his earlier conversation with Orhan had left an unpleasant feeling in the young stallion's gut, and he had no desire to chaffeur anyone around or make smalltalk. Even at the best of times, Koray could not be called a sociable creature.

"I don't really feel like it," he replied bluntly, and let his gaze drift to the adults momentarily. Beyond, along the hilly horizon, great storm clouds continued to loom. "Maybe my dad can show you both around after the rains come. In a few weeks." The colt's eyes danced back to Taika, and his lips curled in amusement. It was nearly the rainy season in the desert, and once the rains came they would not leave again for some time, not until they had replenished the dwindling waters of the oasis and sent the grasses into bloom. Koray was still young, but this was one of the first things Orhan had taught him about his home.

Meanwhile, Orhan was meeting Taytim's gaze intently. He nodded at polite intervals, and cocked one rear hoof to casually relieve his leg of weight. When the name El Aran left her lips, however, his hoof came stamping back down onto the sand. With parted lips, the stallion stared blankly at the dark little mare for a few moments. "Yes," he finally said, and averted his eyes. "She was my mother. I am afraid she has passed on since then."

It had been months, but his mother's death was still fresh in his mind. What's worse, he was no closer to knowing what exactly had caused it. As a result, it was all Orhan could do to hold his composure and try to keep his mind on the conversation at hand, rather than letting it slip into deep, dark memories. He did not notice when Taytim eloquently sidestepped his question and changed the subject; truly, he hardly heard her at all. The desire to interrogate the mare with a million questions about her encounter with El Aran was strong, but he choked it down. She must have met Ana after I exiled her. The timeline fits.

"I see. How old is your son?" he asked as pleasantly as he could manage, just as a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. He lifted his eyes and looked past the mare to the dark clouds that continued to encroach on his home's boundaries. The rains have come early this year, he mused.