orhan
Huddled beneath the rocky overhang that overlooks the oasis, Orhan watches the steady drip, drip, drip of rain trickling from the jagged lip just above his head. In a rhythmic cycle, the droplets form on the edge like teardrops and run sideways towards the center; there they collect together on a sharp point and trickle repeatedly towards the ground, where a deep puddle has formed. Orhan's eyes are half-closed as he stands with his buttocks pressed against the cool stone, and occasionally, when water leaks through a crack in the ceiling and drops onto his head, he shakes his floppy ears in a sudden bout of shivers.
It has been raining for three days straight. Goodness knows the desert needed it, but now the oasis is close to flooding, and the colt's fur coat has suffered, with a scorpion-sized patch of it on his barrel having dropped out to reveal grey, itchy skin beneath. He is miserable, and wants nothing more than to be rid of the incessant cloying feeling of humidity.
At least the intimidating, honey-tongued and brightly-colored Renaissance has not bothered them since that first disastrous meeting. In fact, Orhan has begun to wonder if the stallion had decided the desert was not worth his time and energy, with such troublesome residents to deal with. In a way, it's a reassuring thought. He would be quite content remaining here with only his dam for company until the end of time, without the bothersome and anxiety-inducing presence of others. Still, his encounter with the curl-eared stallion has made him thoughtful. Peering through the hazy slant of rain, Orhan spies the dark, angular silhouette of his mother standing at the banks of the pond, and decides to call out to her.
"Ana, come out of the rain."
yearling; mutt; buckskin; 15'1hh wfg; encantador x el aran; shiva |
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