The Lost Islands
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FEARLESS ON MY BREATH (a'idah)




ORHAN


The moon cut a handsome crescent shape in the black canvas of the night sky, illuminating the dunes below with a soft blue glow. Orhan spared it only the briefest of glances, however, angling his body toward it as if it were no more than a beacon to light his way. At a brisk trot he travelled, grateful for the cool night air, yet no sooner was he beyond the borders of his home than the land began to rise and fall more and more dramatically with each new dune. Every muscle in his body burned with the effort of hauling him up these steep heights, and his legs trembled with each descent, until all over his pale buckskin coat there lay a thin sheen of sweat.

He stopped as soon as his nostrils, so greedily sucking in the night air, caught the whiff of other horses. Not daring to travel any further into strange territory - remembering all too well how he had been greeted the last time he came here - Orhan stood perched atop a particularly tall dune and let his eyes scour the undulating, unfamiliar terrain. His body was tense and ready to flee if need be, tail flagged and ears twitching at every noise, but his mind kept him rooted in place for the time being, with the knowledge that A'idah must still be hidden away in the shadows of one of these sandy hills.

Knowing better than to call out for her, Orhan watched from his perch, waited, and hoped.

ARABIAN / AKHAL-TEKE / MUSTANG - 15’1 - EE Aa nCr - SIX - EL ARAN x ENCANTADOR - SHIVA


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