Iftikhar
mare . arabian . chestnut . 15.0hh . 11
The breeder, when she finds him, stands idle in a clearing wearing the insufferable grin that typically adorns his imperfect face. She’s already prepared to snap a question at him about the whereabouts of Shararat, who is very obviously not in the clearing with him, when he addresses her as-of-yet unspoken concern with a level of mirth Iftikhar finds absolutely revolting.
She stops short and pulls her head up to stare down at him severely. The red mare cannot imagine this pale mutt has absconded successfully with her daughter. Shararat is a clever girl, and despite how furious she makes Iftikhar sometimes, the haughty Arabian knows with no doubt that her daughter would not just... leave with this stallion. Shararat has standards. Iftikhar knows this because she has ensured it with each of her lessons, cementing just a little bit more the importance of maintaining the purity of the breed and refusing to associate with such deplorable beasts such as this half-breed they’ve been forced to share Paradise with for so long.
Iftikhar’s ears tip back, then pin. “Where is she?” she demands. There is no time for this game but she refuses to let more than her usual impatience show. Her urgency will very likely not be responded to in a favorable way by this breeder if she lets on that she needs to find Shararat as soon as possible. Still, it is hard for the red mare to remain completely still when every bone in her body yearns for home. The muscles in her haunch flex as she resists the urge to kick out one hind hoof in an expression of frustration: she’d much rather beat the answer out of the breeder if he was going to be difficult about this.
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