I am the razor in the hands of your heart;
And I am the razor in the hands of God.
By the time Evaline has finished her drink, she notices she is flanked by two others. There was hardly room for secrets in a terrain like the Dunes. The harsh conditions, especially now at the end of summer, meant the herd remained together within the close quarters of the oasis. It was something that took a bit of getting used to -- it was the polar opposite of the expansive Prairie. So she assumed they too had noticed she was gone during the night. Avangeline gives her a targeted glance and Evaline locks eyes with her for a short moment. The palomino mare is stoic and unmovable in her stare, and merely nods politely to the buckskin mare. There was no reason to linger on what had transpired at the shoreline yesterday.
A dark mare emerges shortly after, one Evaline doesn't recognize. Her dark and athletic frame shines under the morning's soft glow and against the sundried landscape of the desert terrain. She speaks deliberately but politely to her and Avangeline. Evaline watches her cautiously. She had grown up in a herd of pure bred Arabians. While this mare was not an Arabian, she carried herself with the same kind of unflappable poise. Evaline didn't like it.
The palomino chooses not to speak in this moment, and instead allows her gaze to fall back onto Gabbar. There seems to be some kind of purpose to this early morning rendezvous. But she couldn't be sure, since she was, after all, just arriving home after a night away.
17 | Arabian cross |14.2 | Palomino | Mother of Kasabian, Shamwari, Vita Nova, Paradiso | Vinyl |