"So you say," the black mare said, but there was no evidence in her voice that she believed him. Even in the face of his defiance (for El Aran could see it as nothing else) she still tried to teach him how to be wary. "The influence of a Purebred is usually subtle."

She fell silent as her son continued to speak and shifted her weight again. The pressure in her belly had not eased, and her trembling seemed to grow more violent as his words ventured from conversational to accusatory. El Aran could not believe what she was hearing. How was their life not good enough for him? What more could a horse possibly need than a secure source of food and water, shelter from the elements, and a herd to watch their back as they slept? She opened her mouth to ask him that, then paused.

Orhan had not spent each day fighting for his life. He had been brought up prepared to protect himself and the herd if it was necessary, but when had he known the endless days without food or, worse, water? He spoke of happiness but it was a foreign emotion to El Aran, and she could not empathize with what her son was telling her. "Survival is all that matters," she said, but her voice was small in the face of his disdain for her way of life. Her gut clenched again and the black mare turned her eyes aside from her son so that he would not see the physical and emotional pain that flashed through her eyes. Pain was weakness. One must never show their weakness to the enemy.

It hurt to admit to herself that Orhan could not be trusted any longer. The gears in her head were already working as he repeated his demand that she leave the Desert, and only half of her attention remained on the pale buckskin stallion she had once called kin. She must speak to Vesti before she left and warn the sorrel mare of the dangers that were sure to come. Someone must be aware and alert if Orhan refused to do his duties as band stallion and protect the mares and the territory.

"It would be better that you stay here and protect this source of water for yourself and Vesti," El Aran replied without menace, and for a wonder her voice was steady despite the shivers that ran down her spine and pressed her hooves more firmly against the short grass of the oasis. The seer felt detached. Light, almost. Her stomach no longer hurt. Nothing hurt. Even her trembling had ceased. She took one step forward, and another, and a third, then paused and looked over at Orhan. A stranger in her home. She felt a moment of vertigo as she wondered if he thought the same thing when he looked at her.

It didn’t matter anymore. The black mare turned away from her son and began her lone trek across the sands.