His mother’s single syllable made him feel nothing at first; then, slowly, like a trickle of cold water, dread rose within him. He stared with disbelief at the tall, lean stallion, and took a single step backward. Then he took another.
Orhan finally understood.
His mind raced back to a few weeks before, when he’d allowed another purebred into their home: an Arabian mare who had seemed harmless, if a little strange and naive. El Aran had not been around at the time, and so he had got away with it on that occasion. But now he could not help but feel that he had made – and was making – a terrible mistake. Seeing his mother’s unhinged anger (as well as an uncurrent of something else – something like fear?) made him feel all the emotions he’d been shutting out lately.
Then what seemed like a dream swiftly turned into a nightmare. Orhan watched with wide eyes and an empty expression as the lean stallion became something else, exploding into a gallop and taunting them into chasing him with a string of words that he could actually understand this time. Orhan did not understand their significance, but they were ambiguous enough to put real terror in his gut. He took another step backward, and shifted his eyes to his mother to see her reaction. He anticipated that she would follow, but he could not – and would not – do the same.
He recalled something she had taught him as a boy: Flee before fighting, unless you have others to protect. Yet Orhan did not have anyone to protect, for he was no leader. Leaders did not let threats waltz into their homes.
In silence, the stallion turned and fled across the sands.
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