“Ho!” came the call from over the Dunes, and Maslakhat twisted his nose and ears toward the source of the sound. When an Arabian shape came into view, he tensed for a moment—expecting hellfire or worse. But fortunately, this was no bloodmarked-grey or fire-red mare coming to confront him, but another stallion—plain and bay with an air of assuredness as well. When the other male drew close enough, Maslakhat noted that his scent was faint, but familiar.

“You are Gabbar,” Maslakhat responded somewhat warily, recalling what sparse information Valve had told him about the other stallion, the most important of which was that he could be trusted. This statement was something Valve would not have proclaimed if she didn’t believe it firmly. He had been alone too long, and as such was more inclined to completely accept his teyze’s word than usual.

After a cordial exchange of breaths, Maslakhat let silence linger for a moment between them as they walked together.

“I assume you already know something of who I am as well,” he continued. “But the name’s Maslakhat.” He eyed Gabbar carefully, wondering if he knew anything of the events that had come to pass in the Desert. Word sometimes travelled slowly between the sands when there were so few souls to perpetuate it. And of course it didn’t help that the wind was a liar. The golden bay Akhal-Teke decided to test the waters.

“What news do you bring, if any at all?”



MASLAKHAT
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