Beneath the unrelenting heat of the sun, Bahadır toils in his torturous thoughts. Quietly contemplates his capability of protecting the Dunes, but despite the doubt a voice whispers strength into his soul. 'ant kafi the voice whispers, at first it is soft just barely audible above the crash of the sea. But as the seconds tick by, the voice becomes more insistent, louder.

'ant kafi! the voice shouts. And Bahadır lifts his head from his knees.

His dark eyes focus on the familiar form of Kalona, and his heart fills with dread. How could he tell the boy? His mother is gone, she was won in a battle. He swallows the panic that threatens to choke the life from him, but the sound of hooves draw his attention away from Kalona and his panic. She strides across the sand, her steps are deliberate and confident. Naz. The intriguing midnight woman. He had seen her fleeting shadow, scented her on the sultry breeze, and glimpsed her lithe midnight form disapearing into the shimmering sea of sand. At first he had thought she was just a mirage, a ghost in the shimmering heat, but now he sees she really has been here.

A single ear swivels to Kalona as he begins to ramble, but he only catches bits and snippets. She left me in charge... get her back. Then there is Naz, her presence brings fire to his soul.

He raises his fine bone head just to catch a glimpse of the concern that clouds her bicolored eyes. A sigh escapes between parted lips, a sigh of relief. Her words are soft and meant only for him, and they bring hope in his battered state. "Naz," he says breathlessly. "We... were ambush...ed," he says in broken words. Warsaw had met them in the waves, a wicked grin plastered on the aging Kings face. It seems to Bahadır, that the Inlet King had been watching and waiting for them to swim ashore.

His ears disapear into his unkempt mane, as Naz snaps at the boy ordering him out of the way and to aid his king. At this moment, he is unconcerned with getting Shaydowfax back. He is injured and would be no good to her laying lifeless in the bubbling surf.

A moment only passes before she presses her midnight skin against his own, as if knowing he needs her. Her body offers support and he is able to momentarily take weight off of his injured shoulder, and the roaring pain dulls. "Yes, I believe I can make it," he says with renewed strength flowing into his quivering muscles. He presses weight into his leg, wincing with each step that is taken up the sandy shore.

A cold sweat breaks out across his shoulders, and quickly stains his mahogany hide a deep chocolate brown. But he presses on, with Naz supporting his every step. As they crest a dune and he takes this moment to pause, his nostrils flaring and his lungs heaving with effort. "Shukraan lakum," he whispers into the narrow space between them as he leans into her body with his own. His heart thunders against his ribs, their close proximity making his head swim and his heart race.

In the shimmering heat, a small oasis pokes out from the sea of sand. A promise of cool refreshing water and shade drives him forward, despite the searing pain that rips through his shoulder with every step. The crimson blood dribbles down his leg and drips off of his fetlock with each painful stride.

They are only strides from the oasis, when he stumbles the last few steps to collapse in the shade of the date trees. He closes his eyes and a sigh of relief passes through his parted lips. The scent of the fresh water tickles his flaring nostrils. He gathers some strength to lift his head to look over at the clear water as it ripples with the sultry desert breeze. Later, he will drink later.

He closes his dark eyes. And falls into a fitful sleep.

Translation: Shukraan lakum: thank you
ant kafi: You are enough