El Halin. Maslakhat. Blind Seer.
Orhan mentally rehearsed the words to commit them to memory, lowering his eyes to the sands thoughtfully as he did so. Little did he know that already he knew all three.
A’idah’s outburst was unexpected. The stallion pulled his head up just in time to witness a hardness flashing in her eyes. Hardness, or is it pain? Where has this come from? Just moments before A’idah had given him the impression that he would always be nothing more than a friendly acquaintance to her – now what was she suggesting? Orhan’s heart thrummed heavily in his chest as he stared back at her with open surprise. Likely she just means she wants to be friends. Calm down, idiot.
“A’idah,” he replied carefully. “Of course not. It’s just that... I feel you are the only one I can talk to about this. The only one who understands why I am afraid for my herd. It’s like we said back on the crossing... we’re caught up in something larger than we understand. I worry every day that something is going to happen, even if I cannot put my hoof on what that is.” He heaved a heavy sigh and let his gaze wander out across the moonlit dunes. “Back on the crossing... you told me you were afraid that someone had followed you to the islands to finish what they had started with your father’s death. I hold a similar fear.”
An image flashed through his brain of his mother standing alert in the sands, her tired eyes eternally on the horizon. For as long as he lived, that was how he would remember her. Orhan had never intended on becoming paranoid as she had been, but he was beginning to understand what had shaped El Aran to be that way.
“Anyway... I asked about the fleabitten mare because an Arabian fitting that description has been staying with my herd. She doesn’t go by the name El Halin, however, so it must not be her.” His eyes drifted back to A’idah’s shadowed face. His expression was heavy with melancholy. “Your friendship means a lot to me, A’idah. I hope you will come visit. I care for my herd, but they are not you.”
He turned away, his hooves leaving impressions in the sand, and gave the mare one last look over his pale shoulder. “I should get back. Good night, A’idah.”
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