She feels the rhythm of her trot pick up a faster downbeat and her slender neck swivels to turn her head over her shoulder. Sand flies under the nimble hooves of the black horse who speeds her way, and Ak Burun watches with relaxed curiosity, maintaining her pace, as the other ‘Teke sweeps past her in a dazzling rush of sand and heat and shimmering obsidian. A mare, one she could call sister-twin were the stranger not covered entirely in black. She’s beautiful; the gale of a hurricane epitomized to precision on four deft feet.
"Evet!" Ak Burun agrees as the other mare slows to speak to her. Her white nose juts toward the impressive soft-topped peaks in the distance as her long legs stretch to pull her body into a controlled gallop. "Orada!" She wants to see it all, all of this great golden land she’s chosen to call her own.
Ak Burun bucks midstride and steps closer to jostle the other mare’s shoulder in companionable competition as she runs, flint striking steel as she strives to pull ahead. Nothing compares to the thrill of challenging one’s body for the sake of a win. It has been too long since Ak Burun has had the opportunity to race with her own kind. This is truly a challenge.
The flat valley between the mountainous sands rises suddenly to the steep face of a dune and her muscles burn as she pulls herself up the soft, sliding sand. It wants to eat her feet, suck her in and devour her while the sun strives to push her down. The sand is cooler beneath but she doesn’t slow, doesn’t give the dune an opportunity to catch and keep her. Her tail snaps up in a flag of victory as she crests the top, breathing hard, and she pivots in an exuberant half-rear to see how close —or how far behind— her challenger is. |