She watches the stallion watch her daughter, and something within her bristles. “No,” she interjects suddenly, emphasizing her disagreement with a single, curt shake of her head. When Rhaella returns her gaze to him, her pea-green eyes are wide and searching, as if attempting to find a hairline crack in that seemingly practiced mask of his. “Not what your home has to offer. You.”

The firmness of that last single word catches Shael’s attention. The filly ceases her antics abruptly and creeps a few steps through the water to get a better look at her dam’s face. When she’s ascertained that the mare is not, in fact, referring to her, the girl nickers with glee and drops with an ungainly splash to soak her entire body in the pool.

“I know nothing about you, other than your name and, now, where you live,” Rhaella continues, and gives a flick of her blonde tail to scatter the pests from her sweaty chestnut flanks. “If my daughter and I are to stay the night here to, as you say, witness your dunes in all their glory, I must first know who we are spending it with. Tell me all there is to know about you, and I will return the favor.” Such a prideful creature, she can hear her mother chiding her mentally, but Rhaella is finding it harder and harder these days to maintain her temper.

My people are sheep, ignorant of the wolves in the shadows. They would do the same if they were in my hooves.