Falls

The ebony huntress is not disappointed. The male who caught her attention earlier had understood from the glint in her gold and blue eyes what it was she had wanted, and the Marwari mare watches the stallion intently, as he appears through the veil of water and approaches her in the gloom of the hidden cave. Her curved ears twist forwards as he speaks to her, and at last, she hears his voice. The awe in his tone can just be made out over the echoing rush of water around them, and as she meets his dark gaze, a thrill races through Naz, causing her to shiver momentarily. The desire to touch him is strong, though for now the proud mare fights the urge. Instead, she turns away from him, white lips curved in a coy smile. Gazing into the misty darkness, the tall, slender mare spends just another moment listening to the sound reverberating around them.

After a few moments, Naz reaches back towards the stallion, her muzzle hovering for a moment close to his ear. “Beni takip et, zorlu kaşif,” she purrs over the sound of the water. Her eyes linger on his face, searching for any sign he recognised her words, or understood her meaning. After a moment, she spoke again, in the rather more common tongue that was prevalent in these isles. “Come.” And deeper into the cavern she goes, the white of her legs gleaming, and her pale face bright like a beacon whenever she turned to steal a glance behind. It would be a shame to explore alone, after all, and she was definitely intrigued by the male. There was desert blood in him, there was no doubt. But Naz was eager to find out which desert was homeland to him, and whether he knew of the presence of any other desert-kin among these islands in the sea.

At the back of the small cavern was the mouth of a yawning tunnel, and standing at the entrance looking down it, it didn’t seem to be very long. There was light, indicating either an exit back to the outside, or a section where the ceiling of rock had collapsed. Having spent a moment examining the tunnel, Naz led the way out of the hidden waterfall grotto, careful to choose a safe path along the rocky passage for her hooves, and those of her mystery companion. It seemed that the roar of the falls quickly faded, and when the walls receded and allowed for two horses to stand next to one another, Naz stopped, and beckoned the stallion to her side. It was only here that she could finally admire his handsome beauty properly, there were mere inches between them and light filtering down from above. His dark, delicate muzzle was striped with white, and the contrast was pleasing to Naz. His ears were finely shaped, his neck arched gracefully. Yes, he certainly was a sight to behold.

The marwari mare had known others who bore resemblance to the stallion before her now, though the shared characteristics were a little softer in this one. Naz wondered if he numbered among those that the kin of her King classed as impure. The black and white mare herself did not share their view, largely because she herself was mistrusted due to everything that marked her as different to the akhal-tekes she’d been raised among. But in the very depths of her, she also rebelled against the idea of keeping bloodlines pure, because she was an outcast living among the enemy, and she knew in her heart that her King would not tolerate any others of her kind. Naz was the one exception. And though she did not yearn for a child now, the way many young mares did, one day she might. When that day came, the huntress wanted her child to be one of love, and not conformity.

Stirring herself from her inner musings, Naz teasingly pressed her lips to the stallion’s cheek, his jaw, feather-light caresses upon skin that was speckled white. And just like that, she withdrew, her golden eyes gleaming mischievously. “What is it you call yourself?” Patiently she waited for a name from him, before giving her own. “I am Naz.” One curled ear flicked as she recalled the words Bahadir had spoken in wonder, just minutes earlier. “I did not know,” she admitted, glancing back the way they had come. “But I listened, and the sound beyond what I could hear, it was very strange. And now I know why.” The marwari mare turned back to the bay stallion, flaring her nostrils and tipping her narrow muzzle in thought. “I am a seeker of new things. I am led by curiosity.” She cast a sultry gaze upon him now, her golden eyes hooded and gleaming like flame.

“Hariq yamut eindama la yujad shay' lilharaq.” Each syllable was shaped perfectly within her mouth, just as the foreign words she’d spoken earlier had been, even though she did not have a valid claim to either language. She’d spoken with a sultry tone, but even as her words faded in the air, the mare’s mood seemed to shift, immediately and almost imperceptibly, so that she was alert and watchful, honey coloured eyes focused keenly on the stallion, eager to gauge his reaction. Did he even understand the words she had spoken? Had her observations and assumptions about him been correct? Or had he perhaps been raised with the common language on his tongue? There was so much she desired to learn of him, but rather than ask a simple, straightforward question, Naz returned to her philosophical ponderings. “Tell me, Bahadir,” his name dripped from her lips, quenching her thirst like water, but still she wanted more. “What is it that you are led by?”