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Nekharat teemed with annoyance, the red hairs on her back prickling with anger at the futility of her position within the Peak. The Vulcans were not what she had expected, and the more she learned about them, the more she wasn’t sure which path was proper. Her father had told her very little of them, only that her mother had been born there and she had absolved not to continue their way of life. And now, the fire-red mare finally understood why.
Still, that did not mean that the Akhal-Teke could not use the Vulcan creed for her own whims and privilege. Staying away from the mountain today, Nekharat made her way through the common lands, keeping a watchful eye out over the lands, looking for any sign of forceful wills. She had been through such a horrid experience here herself, she remained thankful for Amdaut, who had given her back her true choice—a privilege that should be afforded to all.
She sighted the lean Arabian as he came upon the small golden girl laying vulnerable in the sand and her ears immediately flicked backward, pressing tightly against her neck as she quickly dashed in their direction. Without knowing the full intent of this grey-red stallion, she snorted as she assumed the worst. With the autumn season at its peak, Nekharat could not stand idly by and let this girl be taken advantage of, for whatever whim and gain this strangely marked Arabian desired.
Calling out with defiance and stopping her rushed onslaught, sending sand flying in her haste, Nekharat pawed the air and tossed her long, lithe neck at the presumptuous Arabian.
“And how does she know she can trust, you,” Nekharat seethed as her dark eyes glared in his direction. “She washes ashore so vulnerable and you dare plant teeth upon her hide?”
Her sparse, dark red tail lashed between her hind legs as she demanded better of him.
NEKHARAT
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