As far as the golden bay stallion was concerned, a large portion of the natives here couldn’t keep from gorging themselves. Most of them were either thick-boned behemoths or the relatively plain sort with a medium builds, lacking any kind of distinguishing features that allowed for thriving in the harsh conditions of the desert. There were other islands better suited to them, so why did they insist upon traversing Salem? He had a mind to find out, and perhaps even convince them they had made a mistake.
There would be no need for that with respect to this mare—she was everything the Dunes needed. He flicked his tail casually as she sized him up, snorting and then admitting how very strange this endless oasis really was. Maslakhat closed his eyes and nodded slowly, listening and offering her the necessary amount of respect and understanding. He too, had once found this place as odd as she did, but after all this time he’d grown accustomed to it; though he would have absolutely changed it, if he could.
“Not necessarily,” he answered. “You’ll find there is a place for everyone here among this collective of islands.” He paused a moment, thinking how offensive it really was that some couldn’t keep to their proper place when there truly was a place where everyone could thrive in their own right. “Ours is called Salem. I’d be more than glad to show you.”
He turned away and took a few steps toward the direction of the beach, looking back over his narrow, dappled shoulder to make sure she was indeed willing to follow him.
“I am Maslakhat,” he added.
MASLAKHAT
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