Before the smoky black stallion could answer her question, they were joined by Misty. The black mare turned her head to regard the young mare as she joined them. One ear twisted toward the newest member of the herd as she spoke what could only be construed as the black stallion’s name. Pressing her lips together, she excused the mare’s rudeness as Samson introduced himself. No doubt the girl was stunned at seeing her brother here. Perhaps this time she would not ramble.
Returning her attention to the young stallion, El Aran pushed her ears forward. It seemed repetition ran in the family. "What can you offer the Desert, Samson?" she asked. "You are young and untried," she continued, letting her dark eyes rove his black body. Scars did not necessarily make a horse a good fighter —Gods knew El Aran’s own black body was laced with silver— but it did show that a horse had engaged in combat or battle. Samson’s admitted age brought her to the conclusion that he’d probably never fought at all. "And your only connection to this land is your blood-relation to a member of our herd. You would be remiss in thinking that is enough."
Twitching flies off her coat, El Aran’s black tail swept the biting insects from her hindquarters as she waited for the young stallion’s reply.
Aşk's eighth eye
♥ Uforia
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