When he did not hear the sound of hoof beats behind him, the six-month-old tossed a glance over his shoulder and saw that his mother was dawdling behind to speak to his father. He could not hear what was being said; all he could see was that Carisa was touching Orhan, and Orhan was standing firm like a statue with his ears back. His sire nodded once, and then Carisa bounded away to catch up with Koray. Having faltered in his pace to observe the interaction between his parents, Koray’s face brightened in another smile.
“Hurry up, slowpoke!” he called out to his mother, before angling himself once more toward the horizon and taking off in a sprint.
Koray had desert blood in him; he would be swift like his father when he was older. But for now, his short little legs were no match for those of his tall mother. Carisa ate up the ground beside him with ease, while Koray’s legs worked so fast he thought they might fly off. By the time the beach was in their sights, the colt was sweating and heaving with exhaustion.
Still, he was a child, and children always have energy for play. Despite the weariness of his body and the burning in his lungs, the sight and sound and salty scent of the blue-green waves crashing before him drew from Koray a second wind, giving him just enough energy to make it past the last stretch of sand. He crashed enthusiastically into the waves; sea foam and water slapped against his pale body and sailed into the air in an explosion of rivulets. The swell of the water nearly pulled him down, but Koray fought to keep upright, letting out a stream of delighted laughter.
He leapt and danced and tumbled through the shallows, kicking up his legs and wagging his little red tail with glee. “The ocean is so fun,” he remarked, half to himself and half to his mother. “I don’t get why Dad won’t let me come here more often. It’s way better than the oasis.”
KORAY
firstborn son of orhan |