Maslakhat watched her from afar, bucking and cavorting along the dunes like a filly that hasn’t had a chance to run in days. His nose tracked her movements as she galloped along, flicking his dark tail to and fro as he decided how exactly he wanted to handle this one.

She seemed vaguely desert-bred, and by the looks of it, she rather enjoyed the climate here. Interesting. He snorted, wondering exactly where all these mares were coming from. Did they always wander around sticking their noses into different territories and seeing what kind of handsome stallion they could con into loving them? Or was it something else entirely? Were they stricken with wanderlust, perhaps? This one seemed more preoccupied with kicking up sand than making conversation, but she was remiss if she thought she was going to get away with such antics completely unnoticed.

The bay Akhal-Teke decided it was time to interrupt her fanfare. He lifted himself off the nearby dune and galloped along easily, his tail lifted and ears up with interest. The heat of the desert was serious, even in the autumn, and Maslakhat knew that preserving energy was key.

“That was an impressive little display,” he offered flatly, reaching her side as she stood atop the large dune. “Don’t underestimate the heat,” he added, noticing the sweat that dampened her red dun coat at its corners. “If you like, I can show you where to get a drink.”

It was less a courteous offer and more of a recommendation for continued living. He wasn't exactly into dehydrated mares dropping dead in the middle of his newly acquired territory.


MASLAKHAT
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