A shimmer caught a corner of Maslakhat’s eye as he stood atop a dune, surveying the empty sands before him with a flick of his dark tail. He twisted his high-set neck around to see two forms approaching at an easy jog. They moved closely, carrying themselves with the familiar grace of desert-bred horses, but the Akhal-Teke did not recognize them. He casually shifted his weight from one rear hoof to the other and snorted lightly as they drew closer.

He kept his golden eyes trained upon them, learning what he could about them both from their mannerisms and movement. Their sparse manes, short croups and telltale shimmer expressed all he needed to know. After a pregnant pause, and the realization that these two were undoubtedly purebred Akhal-Tekes like himself, Maslakhat received their company without hostility. The mare spoke first, and he listened.

“Evet,” Maslakhat offered in their shared tongue, nodding his head in understanding. “It is good to see another of our kind on these sands.”

He paused a moment, his mind processing the undoubted tension that he knew festered between the border of the Dunes and the Desert. While Valve’s execution of the blind seer had been necessary, he knew from his many encounters with El Halin that the blood-marked Arabian would be none too pleased by his teyze seizing the opportunity to accomplish the task herself. And then there was the matter of Orhan and his than satisfactory reaction to the gruesome discovery of his mother’s body in the sand.

He looked to the pair again and continued. He had to be sure they were not here to cause any further issue, and that if they intended to stay among these dunes that their allegiance was to their shared bloodlines and nowhere else.

“Bana söyle, how did you both come to find this place, and what purpose do you have here?”



MASLAKHAT
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