when ego walks with avarice
They are well matched, the blacks. Shararat is so close she keeps getting hit in the face by the Akhal-Teke’s sparse tail. She lands a nip once, and again— each time spurring Ak Burun into a burst of speed to evade her reaching teeth. Their legs are wet, bellies damp from upflung surf and sand, when a piercing squeal draws them both to a trotting stop, one still ahead of the other. Dished face and narrow nose point toward the source, delicate ears flicking forward as their sides swell and contract with deliberate breaths, the slenderer mare only slightly more winded than her refined companion.
A stallion draped in gold stands apart, then bolts, his path more varied than the straight shot Ak Burun had taken in her flight. Shararat steps forward to press her muzzle on the slope of the other mare’s hip, her eyes trained on the white-flecked male who spins to taunt them into a game. Her lips part in a smile, startling Ak Burun out of reach of what she suspects is teeth, and Shararat pivots in a half-rear to answer his challenge. She tears down the beach, keeping to the wet, compact sand under the tideline, hooves drumming and head outstretched as she trains her nose on this horse she knows, will always know, and shrieks with delight as she nears him.
“Ailill!” Shararat cries as she breezes past him, boisterous as a filly, and turns in a tight circle to bring herself around to his front. Her eyes are bright, nimble legs dancing as she jogs a brisk design before him, tail flagged, flaunting her prowess in the deep, dry sands. “Dance with me!” she demands, laughing, and leans into another spin. She is graceful now, her steps more complex, and her head is ever-turning atop her lithe neck to keep him in view.
Ak Burun, when the Arabian bolts back down the beach, turns and follows at a similar pace before it becomes clear her dark friend knows this male, and then the ‘Teke slows to trot, then a walk, and finally stops several paces away to witness this reunion with forward facing ears and a head held high, the expression in her dark eyes opaque as moonlight behind clouds.
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shararat & ak burun
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