He had watched her wash up on the shore not unlike some driftwood that the sea had deposited there, nestled amongst the white sands and the coarse beach grasses. From his vantage point, he does not see the whites of her eyes, but with her legs splayed out and her neck jutting forwards uncomfortably, it’s all he can do to stay back and hope she calms herself. Even as she moves up to the sandier part of the dunes, the part where only he would bother to venture, leaving visitors on the beach where the shelter was thicker and the breezes were kinder, he can see that she is displeased.

Naturally, he expects this, from the moment he heard the shriek of “Brute!” carrying across the dunes to find his dark ears, he did not predict that he should find the mares washing up on shore with a smile on their faces. Even when he had done good, removing women from a hostile environment, he had been scolded and told to leave. Perhaps being good was not the way to win in life. It was a matter of survival of the fittest, and no doubt, Badr had decided that he deserved that title.

Badr the alive.

Yes, that would do quite nicely.

Eventually, he moves towards her, carefully skimming around the edges of the dunes and keeping to the beach, his hooves leaving a trail in the soft sand behind him and his golden tail flicking meagrely over his haunches. The stallion is at ease in his own him, with his skin stinking of salt, sweat, and the heat, he finds himself moving almost gracefully towards the mare, his legs accustomed to the sand and his body growing ever healthier under the sun. Once close enough, he does a quick scan to find that she is not injured and proceeds with words. “You don’t have to be frightened.” These words probably fall on deaf ears, but they are accompanied with a smooth and quiet voice, along with a face that remains particularly void of all emotions. “Though I wouldn’t go too far out into the desert if I were you.”