Much like the red colt, the golden duo wandered the desert. They wandered aimlessly, dragging their hooves through the slithering, hot sand; barrels, hips, and shoulders bumped occasionally. They seemed to ever be bound to one another by invisible threads. It was rare, exceedingly so, that they were ever more than a breath apart. Even then, when they were separated, they were so alike to one another that it was like having the pair of them together anyway. But as they are now, brushing skin to skin against each other, they are most at peace. Mirrors or mimes, it was hard to say if one’s actions guided the other’s or if they were mere reflections, ingrained from their many years together.

As they wander, the pair pass idle conversation back and forth between them; exotic, foreign words that twisted and rolled against one another in a near endless tide.

“Onun kaderi web'deki kraliçe karar verilmelidir.”
“Evet, bu olmalı.”

Nearly on cue, as the words floated between them in the warm, dry air, an unmistakeable call rose in the distance. The two pause, turning their thin, angular faces toward one another in similar expressions of surprise and bemusement. One’s ears flicker back toward its poll as the other’s nostrils wrinkle and it tosses it’s head with a rolling eye. No words, but as they set off again, their annoyance with the situation is palpable. Unlike the young, foolish boy’s expectations, they do not rush toward him. They meander casually through their home, falling back into idle conversation until one spots the short, red body of the young stallion in the distance. Silently, the pair turn in his direction, lean bodies collecting from their relaxed, lazy posture into that of haughty, regal authority.

They reach him in mere moments, although by now the sun is setting in the west, laying long shadows across the rolling backs of the dunes. Halting a short distance from the boy, they wait with quiet patience for him to come to them, both eyeing his sweat-patched flanks silently. Their own bodies are pristine, metallic bronze and gold in the failing light, with only the faintest trace of dust and sand around their ankles.

“So, you are the one.” It was the male speaking, his soft, serpent-like voice gliding smoothly between his dark lips as he stared down at the ruddy colt. The mare stood just to his right, dark eyes glittering brightly as she brushed her muzzle casually over the shoulder of her not-twin.

“Plead your case.” She murmured in a voice like silk, deliberately turning her face away from the colt. The pair shifted and she manouvered to press her chest into the stallion’s barrel, sighing heavily as she rested her chin on his hip and stared out across the quickly darkening dunes.

---

sekhet & sutekh
mare. akhal-teke. buckskin. fifteen-three. seven.
stallion. akhal-teke. buckskin. sixteen-zero. six.
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