Meadow

Bahadır stands quietly, alone on the sandy shores. The surf froths at his hooves, it bubbles and hisses, creating a melody. It was a song that he has known since he was a tifl. A child who was born to the desert sands, a gift to his mother. A smile slowly spreads across his pink lips at the fond memory of his mother. Her voice still lingers on the desert winds, her presence lingers with him still. Every time that he returns to Salem, his heart aches, it was home. He silently vows that he would not stop until he has secured his place, his rightful place within the Desert.

A movement down the beach catches his attention, a dark figure, stood stark against the golden sands. There was an unmistakable grace as the dark figure moves from the sands, toward the meadow. His curiosity rises within him, he needs to know who they were. He picks his way across the sands, the sand is soft and comforting beneath his hooves. A cool night breeze touches his thin mahogany skin, he shivers against the chill.

He moves quietly, gracefully. His ears rotate atop his delicately chiseled crown, he listens for the sound of the dark figure. Chocolate eyes train upon the stranger he had seen just on the sands of the beach. She was slender, fine boned, and black as the midnight sky. He catches his breath in his throat. And she had the same sharply curved ears as Darshan. Where did they come from? He has so many questions. He had wanted to ask Darshan, but had been interrupted by another stallion before he was able to. He steps closer, his curiousity grows.

"Salem, your ears. Where do you get them?" He questions. His voice soft, curious. His dark chocolate remain glued to her, he has only spoke with a few girls. He shifts his weight from one hoof to the other. Hope swells in his chest that she would tell him from where her ears came from.