She reveles in the last rays of the setting sun, soaking up each sweltering ray until its last drop. A single ear swivels atop of her delicate crown, it catches the sound of shuffling sands. She raises her dished face just in time to see a mahogany colored arabian crest the farthest dune from the gathering herd. Olaf and Bloodmane stand between the herd and the now pair of native horses. They did not look as if they were here for pleasentaries. As the other mares begin to mill around, they jostle into one another. As a few push into her, she squeals and unleashes her fury on them. She sends a few warning kicks and opens her maw to reveal her teeth. She would not have them step on her in their panic.
A smirk plays at her dark lips as she watches the battle ensue, flesh upon flesh, the grunts and squeals of effort. She can feel her chestnut hide prick at the sound. It has been some time since she has seen a battle over a home; that didn't envolve murder. She snorts in response to her thought, but as quickly as it began, Olaf falls to his knees. The Teke's attack, proves to be fruitful. As Olaf gathers up his mares in defeat, she lingers, watching them depart from the Dunes. Those were the terms, she was to remain here, which she delighted in.
She watches the exchange between the victors, the Teke is obviously in pain. An impact with a stallion, especially of the size and bone as Olaf; would leave anyone hurting. She had not taken to the bald faced stallion, he had forced her into the Dunes; acting as if she had no choice. She snorts and shakes out her blonde tresses. Who did he think he was? It is not long before, the mahogany stallion approaches. She analyzes him, strong bone, healthy coat; he was worthy of the victory. She eyes him as he halts before her, he keeps his distance, which she instantly respects. As he deeps his head and offers his name, she keeps her face emotionless. She gages him, until her decision to speak is made.
"Salam, Gabbar. What is of urgency? You are victorious are you not?" she questions, then pauses and considers his next words. "You may proceed, Gabbar son of Leil." She was actually taken aback by his respect, she did not come from such a culture. Her father had taught her to chose her close companions, wisely, regardless of gender. She eyes him, but plays along, he did not need to know of her culture.
Flaxen Chestnut Rabicano - Egyptian - 14.2 hh
- of the Dunes -