El Halin sees the horse first and silences her red partner with an abrupt hiss. The two mares turn their heads to observe the stranger as she finishes her approach, but neither Arabian moves from their position. The High Seer’s dark eyes flit across the sleek, graceful form of the black mare as she greets them in the mothertongue, but Iftikhar’s eyes lock unerringly with the skinny mare’s own gaze. Her ears tilt back and hold, quivering slightly as if she resists the urge to bury them in her red mane.

“Ve size,” El Halin replies smoothly into the silence, her tone as authoritative as the black mare’s.

Iftikhar shifts her weight casually to lean against her companion’s barrel, then flicks her ears forward and stretches her neck over the High Seer’s freckled hindquarters to address the ‘Teke. “You’re a long way from home,” she observes, and there is something steely in her voice.

The gray mare shifts her weight to bump her hip against Iftikhar’s chest. “Yanlış kısrak,” she says softly. El Halin lifts her head and her voice as she speaks to the black mare. “Out for a walk on this fine evening? I too prefer the sands under the stars than the light of the sun, on occasion.”

The red mare holds her tongue but her eyes remain pinned the ‘Teke. Her body quivers as if she longs to lunge at the black mare, and it is only El Halin’s body between them that stops her. The High Seer is not unaware of Iftikhar’s tension, and she does her best to call attention away from it by disengaging from her position at the chestnut’s side to face the stranger. Iftikhar remains behind the bloodmarked mare.

The two Arabians point their ears at the ‘Teke and wait to see if she’s merely passing by or if she intends to linger.


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IFTIKHAR & EL HALIN
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