A bad dream, Vesti said, yet Orhan doubted. She had looked perfectly awake to him. Just as the sneaking suspicion that she was keeping something from him crept into his mind, however, her tune changed. This time, thankfully, there was no dissonance to it, though it did not explain why she had stomped at the water. He dismissed it as a harmless quirk, figuring there was no sense in dwelling on it.

The stallion blew out of his nostrils softly and let his gaze follow hers, out to the looming stormclouds. They had swallowed the sun, throwing the landscape into premature darkness and turning the golden sand almost lavender. Orhan could feel the humidity in the air, cloying and clingy on his already sweaty skin.

“If it hits, it will hit hard,” he replied, remembering in his youth how the rains had made the oasis swell to almost twice its size. It did not rain often in the desert, but when it did, it rained like hell. He glanced over to the shelf of sandstone that guarded the oasis on its western edge, wondering if they should shelter beneath it. Perhaps soon. Right now, he had questions.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Vesti,” he said suddenly, and shifted his weight. “Do you have any family? Anyone who might come looking for you here?”