Much had changed, these past weeks. Outwardly, the war had ravaged the islands, from the epicentre in the Forest on Luthien. It affected the whole island chain, even the bachelor and amazon herds on the Crossing. But the biggest change of all, for Naz at least, had been an invisible one, held secret within her very soul. Upon the battlefield, between the towering trees, with Bahadir at her side, Naz had fought fiercely, regaining the honour she believed she’d lost. She’d found that which she had come to these islands for, all those months ago.
And instead of killing the traitorous son of her King, she’d forsaken herself, seeking peace with Kahraman instead, not willing to give up the place at her Sultan’s side.
The change in her head brought Kahraman back to his senses, and the enemies had become allies once more. After ensuring that Bahadir was safe, Naz had left with Kahraman, had spoken with him at length, and over the period of several days, they repaired the brokenness in one another that no one else could fix. Kahraman was gone, now, left the islands to return home, and regain his honour. Neither of them could be sure he’d ever return – the wrath of his father might extinguish his life. But it was something he had to do. And Naz understood that.
And yet, as she meandered the crossing alone, she found herself mourning for one still alive, for a life she had been denied. But the future that awaited for her in the Dunes was as balm to her soul, and so, despite the lines of tiredness etched into her face, there was a brightness in her eyes that nothing would extinguish. A lone figure just ahead draw her out of her contemplation, and upon taking in further details of the young mare, Naz picked up her pace, her dark, curled ears twitching with concern.
She slowed as she drew near, allowing any tension in her posture to roll from her shoulders and she settled, relaxed, not wanting to alarm the trembling Arabian. The marwari mare took a moment to angle her body to block most of the wind, before addressing her young companion. “A takhafu , sawf asaedak,” she said softly, and with a gentle tilt of her muzzle, indicated that the girl could lean into her side if she wished, to share her warmth.