Her greeting was warm and filled his chest with something like comfort. It was the first kind voice he had heard in a long time and Yusuf is very glad to hear it. She smelled just as sweet, a reminder of the flowers that dotted the meadow of his birth. Perhaps she was made of the same stuff as those flowers. Why couldn’t such a thing be possible?

She has a name. Ava. He repeated it aloud, liking the feel of it on his velvet lips.

“Ava, tatlı çiçekler.” He smiled, pausing a moment before offering his own name.

“I’m Yusuf.”

Yusuf—it sounded strange when spoken out loud; it was a meaningless word, and almost felt like a heavy sigh to utter. He supposed it suited him. Not the sort of name for the lion-hearted, despite what the sun had told him. He is silent while he reflected for a moment on what the vision had meant. It was foreboding to be sure, and at his core is he afraid. He does not possess much courage, nor did he ever seem to find the bit he did have when it mattered.

His thoughts travelled to the malevolent mare that found him when he first washed up on the shore of the desert. She could have killed him, but she didn’t. Instead she cursed him, brought him even lower than he ever thought he could get. Yet she provoked him enough that found that small bit of courage, and he stood up to her. He raised his voice and scolded her. It was a strange feeling—a good feeling, for the briefest moment—but in the end, had it really accomplished anything? He suspected not.

“Forgive me,” he spoke again, realizing he had let his mind wander while still in the midst of Ava’s pleasant company. “I don’t mean to be a burden, but I’m quite thirsty. Do you know where there is some water?”



-yusuf