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Nekharat rolled her eyes, unimpressed by the red-grey stallion and his flowery manner of speaking. She had no love for such pomp, finding it wholly distracting. He had motives in the acquisition of such a mare, whether or not they were pure was a matter of perspective. His demeanor indicated that by all accounts, he believed he had done the right thing in removing her choice; that such oppression was the only way to protect her. Yet without the red mare’s presence here, young Fawn would not have had the privilege.
“What is better for her is not for you to judge,” Nekharat chided. “You need not plant teeth, however gentle, to protect a lady from harm. If your intentions are truly peaceful, you may prove this by defending her in the circumstance that another with ill will did approach.”
She snorted, flicking her tail once more, and looking to the golden mare now as she rose from the wet sand. Thanking her, but in a reserved fashion, Nekharat felt her withdraw from her—perhaps intimidated by her strength or disinclined to fully understand her passion for freedom of choice, especially when it came to those who were not in a position of strength or power themselves. She continued, choosing to follow the stallion, referencing his softness of all things, and the red Akhal-Teke dipped her head to acknowledge and respect her choice.
Soft was not a word Nekharat would use to describe any stallion, let alone one of desert descent, but Fawn had made her decision and she was not so brazen as to sway her in any other direction. She felt some level of responsibility however, for the mare was young and undoubtedly naive, and if this tenderness displayed by the red-grey stallion was nothing more than a facade meant to entice the weak, well the fire-red Akhal-Teke wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
“Fawn,” Nekharat began, her voice shifting to one less of fire and more of candlelit warmth. “If you would be more comfortable, I can escort you. If only to keep the man honest in his intentions.”
Nekharat flicked her eyes to Antares to gauge his reaction to this quickly, before she returned to the lady.
“The choice again, is yours.”
NEKHARAT
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