As Maslakhat watched her drink her fill with cautious eyes, she murmured a quiet ‘thank you’ and at last the bay stallion sees some element of compassion in her. He smiled a little and relaxed his posture slightly, showing her that he would only be as suspicious of her as she warranted. It was interesting to watch her study him. She was bold enough to go out on her own, yet cautious enough to mind her words and actions around him. Perhaps this sort of quiet, distancing attitude was what served her well enough in the past to keep her out of distress. And the fact that she was so tenuous suggested that perhaps once—maybe long ago—she had gotten into some kind of trouble.

When she finally spoke, he tilted his head slightly to the side, intrigued that she would assume he was some kind of king.

“King? No, I would hardly call myself a king.” In his culture, there were no kings. Land was shared by several herds of horses and power was measured not by territory but by influence among them. He intended to roam over the Dunes as he would any other stretch of land.

“I suppose I am more of a warden,” Maslakhat continued, deciding it was easier to explain this to her than the intricacies of his traditions. “There was another stallion here, but he’s gone now.”

That was probably as clear an answer as she could have hoped for.

“And you?” he continued, not wanting to waste this opportunity to learn a little about her motives as well.


MASLAKHAT
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