Soon there came the approach of a mare. Areo Hotah observed her arrival with his head raised and ears pointed forward. There was not a moment in which is eyes fell from her though his expression gave way to no particular emotion. He could be carved from ice or stone for how little he moved.
She was not unlike other fillies of his colthood with their equally thick bodies and hard-packed hits. Most of the foals raised beneath the watchful eyes of their instructors were of workhorse blood; the muscled strong which toiled with sweat a thick sheet darkening their flesh and their lips set into hard, grim lines. Areo Hotah had seen horses of multiple statures given rank among the protectors and knew as strong as he may be, any horse no matter their size could utilize themselves to great advantage if trained correctly.
For a brief moment he reflected on how different she and this place was from what he had known. The thought was a fleeting one, quick to be pressed away purposefully, less he sit and reflect over things he needed be troubled by. Now was not time to reflect on the past unless he was thinking of a lesson taught and how best to apply it to the now.
Habari, she said, and it was a language he did not know. Areo Hotah knew three, including the common tongue.
“Marçbaan.” He replied in an even tone, spoken somewhere deep from within his wide chest. He blinked. “I am searching to fulfill the purpose taught to me since foalhood. I have come far.” Areo Hotah paused. He was so very formal, some who had not been raised as he had might assume it was some form of a jest. Never once did the great large greying, white-limbed stallion waver. “Serve. Obey. Protect.”
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