The slow, shuffling tread of a weary horse caught the attention of one black ear, but El Aran’s eyes were swift to locate the source of the sound. It was not Sova nor Misty, nor either of the other two foreign female scents she had smelled rising above the sands. Encantador stood before her looking the worse for wear, although there was little evidence of the scuffle he’d been in besides the limp in his gait and the obvious soreness of his body. The dunskin held himself as if in constant pain.
"Trouble?" she repeated. "For the crown? I did not realize you had competition." El Aran moved across the small bit of sand that separated them to rest her muzzle on her lead stallion’s shoulder. It occurred to her then that perhaps it was not the crown of Salem at all that had caused Encantador’s trouble. "Why did you not call for me?" she asked. Surely he knew that she would willingly aid him.
The black mare closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She was careful not to put too much weight on her partner just in case the shoulder she touched was injured, but El Aran wanted to be near him. She had made her decision even before Encantador had arrived and she doubted anything would change her mind in that regard. As such, she was more affectionate than was typical of her. Seeing him only strengthened her resolve, but she waited. Whatever trouble he had found was a more immediate and pressing concern than her own desire to rebuild their herd in the most instinctive and natural way she knew how.
Aşk's eighth eye
♥ Uforia
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