Naz allowed a small sigh of disappointment to escape her when Shaydowfax confirmed that the one she hunted was not here. She surveyed the land as the buckskin continued to speak, mentioning her son and another male, describing their colours. Not far to the east she saw a cluster of palms rising over the dunes. An oasis, no doubt. Good to know. The marwari snorted softly, shaking her head lightly. The information Shaydowfax shared was of no help to her. “The one I seek is a creamy coloured ‘Teke, a Forsaken Prince.” She pointed towards the hidden oasis with her muzzle. “What of the rest of the island? It seems to consist of a vast stretch of desert sand from what I observed.”
Her pale face is turned back to Shaydowfax as the mare speaks again, both ears trained on her. Naz listened patiently, shifting into a relaxed position, tipping a hind hoof as she readjusted her weight on the shifting sand beneath her hooves. After taking a moment to ponder over the mare’s question, Naz tilted her head, choosing her words carefully. “I do serve my King, there is no doubting that. I have been loyal to him.” Her golden eyes regarded Shaydowfax keenly. The way of life here must surely be a lot more relaxed than that of the distant place from where Naz had come. The marwari wondered… If there was no King, then who’s foal did this Queen carry. The only stallion Shaydowfax had mentioned was the grullo, Björn. Did he live here as a subordinate? Or had he perhaps moved on? Naz mulled over these questions, but did not voice them.
“I am not so small minded as some to think that a mare cannot fight as well as a stallion, if not better, given the motivation,” Naz said softly, nostrils flaring again as she glanced away. “I have known a mare whose strength and determination rivalled that of the finest warrior stallions.” The mare in question was also pallid in colour. She and the Prince would have made a fine match and united their warring herds, had her pride not stirred her to rebellion. It was this phantom-mare’s reckless courage that had led the Prince astray. “The qualities that make the greatest leaders are not found solely in stallions. Wisdom. Humility. Many are quick to abandon such things for the sake of pride.”
Naz’s demeanour shifted subtly at Shaydowfax’s retort. The marwari mare’s ears turned back slightly in disapproval. How long had this so-called desert Queen lived here? Six months. Naz had lived close to four years in climates harsher than this one, and yet, she would have gladly accepted well-intentioned advice from any with more knowledge and experience than herself. After all, the marwari mare had heard tales of even seasoned desert-dwellers succumbing to the trials the desert presented. Deserts were to be respected, and as the marwari regarded the buckskin mare with cool eyes, she debated disengaging with the mare and venturing further into the landscape to continue on her search. After all, if things continued as Naz predicted they might, then this mare would be of no use to her.
As it was, Naz was in a forgiving mood, and was willing to offer the mare a chance to redeem herself, if she so desired. If not, well, Naz would take her leave promptly, and seek information elsewhere. “My King has reigned for years,” she began gently, though her gaze was piercing. “He has earned the respect and loyalty of many. One of the ways he has done this is by being grateful for any advice offered him, no matter how lowly it’s source.” Naz readjusted her position, leaning away from Shaydowfax, even as she sought to keep her posture relaxed. She hoped to convey that she did not mean her measured words to be threatening. If it came to it, and Naz felt forced to defend herself, it would be clear as the cloudless sky above them that she could be a threat indeed.