Badr found no friend in death. Even as a child, he had vowed that he should go kicking and screaming, and even if the waves tired him, or if the heat beat him down, he would never just roll over and die. Badr had not been born to die- at least, this is just what he has gone on to teach himself over the years.

He is not surprised to find someone coming here to die- the desert was a volatile place that often promised to cut young lives off short. Many of his family had died away because of the heat, and often children that had been born the same summer that he had been born were picked off by the elements. First it had been the heat, then the lack of water, and then the lack of food, and finally there were the predators that awaited the occurance of foals being left behind.

They must have made for a tasty meal.

Gazing down at the mare as she stands, he takes a step back to allow her room, carefully eyeing her legs as they shake under her weight, his ear flicking barely a fraction as she speaks to him again. “If I leave, it would be of my own accord.” He states flatly, knowing full well that eventually boredom would kick in, and he would find himself relocating to another land, or perhaps leaving the concept of herd life behind entirely. “Badr.” he introduces himself after her, watching her face now, as she coughs to find her voice and enquires about the nearest watering hole. Of course, that would be found just over the reach of the beach sands- the next one being part of a small oasis much further inland. The stallion nods and turns to head in the direction of the watering hole, where perhaps there the woman would regain her strength and where he could, perhaps, quiz her.