"Zaman sana uymazsa sen zamana uy."


Solitary moments were as fleeting as the hours in a day. As the black Arabian stood on the shore of this strange new island and thought about how long he had been away from his homeland, he realized that he actually had no idea. Did such knowledge even matter? Perhaps it did, but only if he were missed and that seemed unlikely. It was far more likely that he would not remain by himself for long—and sure enough, another stallion approached.

Al-Hattaal looked on with incredulity in his deep brown eyes—he had never seen a horse with such color or thickness of bone, his wide hooves adorned with feathering. Covered in mud and wet with slush, the stranger had a wild look that the desert-bred Arabian didn’t quite know how to properly judge. He stood his ground in an effort to appear steadfast, despite his inclination to run. Avangeline, whom he spied again at his side, was responsible for this response.

It felt like an especially poor choice when the great hairy beast reared just in front of him—an aggressive gesture that Al-Hattaal did not appreciate. He pinned his narrow ears back for a moment and pawed the cold dirt below to express his disdain, preparing for a fight if it came down to that. But to his surprise, the next words out of the thick stallion’s mouth weren’t especially threatening. Lifting his ears from his poll, Al-Hattaal flicked his eyes to the Akhal-Teke girl quickly searching her expression for some kind of clue that this was indeed a strange moment.

“Well,” the stallion drew in a breath and continued, matching his calm tone of voice. “I’m looking for my sister.”