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The pleasure of lifting herself over the dunes as they rolled away beneath her filled Nekharat with an unexpected, boundless joy. Many suns and moons had passed since she felt so unencumbered. There was nothing else like gliding over desert sand. She regaled in how it gave way under each hoofbeat and dissipated around her, a wondrous show of power and strength. The red mare possessed no nostalgia for her homeland until this moment, yet in an odd way she also felt invigorated with the knowledge that there were other places in the world that could compare.

Despite her long journey, she wasn’t tired. The dunes were made to cradle her kind and she was made to traverse them. As long as they existed, she would exist too and she would glide across them until she decided it was time to stop. She was so preoccupied with maintaining this movement, her narrow nose pointed toward the cloudless sky, she nearly collided with a sleek, black bullet of another mare.

“Hepsi iyi, my friend,” she replied in a mix of her native language and the common tongue. She barely noticed that she knew words of her old world, it seemed so natural to hear such phrases when among the sands. Nekharat slowed to face her, her red coat still shining dark with seawater, dried salt creasing at the folds of her shoulders and ears.

“Mm, I am no fish,” Nekharat replied literally, a spark of light humor in her voice. “But if you are asking if I am alone, the answer is yes.”

She paused a moment, looking over her new companion. An Arabian, undoubtedly. If her grasp of her native language hadn’t already proved it, her dished head and bright, round eyes made it especially clear. Apparently, she was expecting someone else.

“Whom are you seeking?” Nekharat asked straightforwardly.

NEKHARAT