They traipsed into the dunes – a windblown pair of wanderers who couldn’t be more different. They had been forced to come here, but Tan Jala, the smaller, spotted male, had taken his own sweet time doing it. The buckskin mare that had made demands of him and his companion had threatened to track them down if they didn’t heed her beck and call, but it had been the depths of winter, and Tan Jala wasn’t about to risk the icy oceans just to appease a stranger.
Besides, she had been heavy with foal when she’d made her intimidating demands, and Tan Jala knew they were nothing but empty threats. What mother and apparent Queen, would risk the wellbeing of her child, the safety of her herd, and her own life, to track down a couple of strays like them? In any case, Tan Jala had only come here now, not to appease the brash buckskin mare, but because he and Banshee had nowhere else to go.
Besides, poor Banshee was tiring, and the buckskin mare better make good on her offer of a home. If she wanted Tan Jala so badly, she had him, but he expected much in return for his presence. With a snort, he drew to a halt along the ridge of a dune, and Banshee hovered below him, standing in the shadow he cast. They’d wait only for a short time for someone, anyone, to appear before wandering further into the desolate landscape.
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