Orhan stared across the border at the great, undulating dunes that rose before him like small mountains. His own home was not flat until it reached the beach, where the earth became dry and cracked, but his neighbor’s territory had always had the advantage in height, and so it had always seemed imposing to him. The dunes seemed to mock him as he looked on, taunting him for being unable to cross the invisible line that guarded them.
Just do it, he commanded himself. If she is there, she could be gone again by the time you muster up the courage to check.
But procrastinating was easy. And it made him feel better. No, another day, he finally decided, and turned away to head back into the depths of his desert.
The stallion lifted his head, flagged his tail, and travelled at a brisk trot across his home toward the oasis. He glided with the ease of familiarity, though this time of year the sun was baking hot and soon enough he had lathered into a fine sweat across his pale buckskin coat.
When the oasis finally appeared in the distance, its dark form shimmering in the heat, a blast of cool air hit him, carrying with it the usual scents of fresh water, grass, and horses. Yet there was a fourth scent, bitter and unpleasant in his nostrils. Blood. Adrenaline surged through him like cold fire, sending him into a manic gallop as he crossed the last stretch of hilly sand and slid downhill toward the water’s edge. At first he could see nothing – then, as he looked across the oasis, past the barrage of trees and foliage, he saw her: Carisa, lying in the sand. His heart in his mouth, Orhan arced around the water as swiftly as he could without losing his footing.
He had been well aware of Carisa’s pregnancy for some months now, though neither of them had really addressed the issue or talked about it. Part of him had regretted what they’d done that day he’d opened up to Carisa and explained his fears over Vesti and Izzy, but the mare did not seem to share his negative feelings about it, and he had not talked to her enough to discover if she was anything but as content as she seemed over the fact he had got her with child.
He just hoped she would not abandon him as Vesti had.
Thus when his eyes landed on the small, pale body lying in the sand beside Carisa, Orhan slid to a stop, kicking up a wall of sand in the process. Carisa rose and began licking the body, but the foal was as still as a stone. Orhan had not been present at Izzy’s birth – was this normal?
He crept toward the pair slowly, his sides slick with sweat and his breath coming fast. His honey-brown eyes were wide as they roamed the body of his second child, who lay perfect and white against the golden sand. A boy, he realized, and his throat felt tight. The air was thick with the stench of birth.
“Is he okay?” he questioned the tall blanketed mare quietly, coming to stand at her side without meeting her eye. But as he spoke, something stirred the colt, who suddenly sat up with sea-green eyes blinking blearily and body swaying like a tree in the breeze. Relief coursed through Orhan so suddenly that he laughed and blinked away tears. His son - their son – sat there for a time with limbs folded beaneath him and limp ears splayed sideways atop his little head, evidently exhausted from the ordeal of having been born. His right side was completely coated in sand, adding an almost comedic quality to the sheer endearment of his brand-new presence.
“He’s so pale,” Orhan said, his voice cracking.
He wondered what his mother would say if she was here.
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