Orhan by nature was prone to being preoccupied, and that had not been more true than in the past few weeks. With the arrival of Nesrin, the appointing of Nasmat as lead mare, and the disappearance of Vesti and Inzestrare - as well as the brief, tension-filled visit of the two Akhal-Tekes from the neighboring territory - Orhan had been spending more of his time lost in his thoughts and pacing along the borders of his home. I am becoming paranoid, he mused every time he caught himself staring across the barren landscape for a horse that was not there. In his dreams, the horse took many forms. Sometimes it was the proud chestnut silhouette of A’idah, sometimes it was the shadow of his mother, and sometimes it was a demon coming to destroy his entire family. He had once vowed he would never become like El Aran, mistrustful and eternally waiting for doom on the horizon, but lately it seemed that was a fate he could not escape. Every morning and every evening he simply could not shake the feeling that their herd was somehow in trouble.
Often it was difficult to put on a brave face for the mares, and to smile and be pleasant when all he wanted to do was bury his head in the sand for the rest of time. It was easier when he was around Carisa and Koray, thankfully - his new little family was so pleasant and perfect that spending time with them was like a vacation in itself. But when they were not together, Orhan was thankful for the times in which the mares left him alone. His troubling thoughts may have been no fit company, but it was better that he struggled alone than distribute his burdens evenly throughout the herd. Thankfully, he felt a little less guilty about distancing himself now that the mares had Nasmat to look after them.
Still, as distracted as he was, Orhan had always been sensitive to the goings-on in the desert, and he had not failed to notice that one horse in particular had become just as aloof as he. He had expected this somewhat, of course. After discovering the horror Ava had been through, he had deliberately been giving her space, but as her pregnancy progressed and she began to spend less and less time among the other mares, Orhan had begun to fear that she would do the same thing Vesti had and abandon the desert altogether. He would not blame her if she did; she was not close to anyone here, after all. But still he did not look forward to the day he awoke and failed to find her scent on the breeze.
Today the stallion stood in the shade of a tall boulder that overlooked the western bank of the oasis. As long as he had lived here, this had been one of his favorite places to rest, but there was no trace of joy in his tired face as he cocked one back hoof and stared into space. He had noted the quiet departure of the little champagne mare some time ago, her fat belly swaying to and fro as she struggled to carry herself over the sands, and his anxiety had been slowly building since she had left. His gut told him that something was not right, and his body itched to move.
So he moved.
Recalling the general direction she had gone, the stallion sauntered as casually as he could manage past the fringe of trees along the edge of the water and up the incline of the dune that sheltered their little valley from the worst of the winds. There, atop the vantage point of the hill, he paused and lifted his head to search the barren landscape for any sign of Ava. For several moments, he could see nothing - then, from behind a cluster of rocks, he caught the sight of the mare’s white-and-amber topline hunched over as if she was grazing. He breathed a sigh of relief, then began to make his way toward her. When something white peeked out at him from behind the rocks, he picked up his pace to reach her faster.
The familiar stench of birth hit him as he came upon the pair. A delighted smile brightened his tired features as he took in the sight of the pale little filly with the golden crown. She was paler even than Koray, with eyes of an even more vibrant green. “She’s beautif-“ Orhan started to say, his smile dropping like a stone when he saw that Ava’s face, normally so cheerful, was contorted into an expression of unadorned distress. His eyes dropped back to the filly, searching her body for a defect or wound that might have explained why her mother was weeping, but he could see nothing. She was clean and perfect.
Orhan lowered his head to the mare’s level and stretched his nose toward her. “Ava, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, his voice full of concern.
|
