"Yes," the Arabian confirms with another warm smile. Ak Burun is magnetic at her best, and usually only shows her worst, infrequently, to Shararat. They make quite a pair when they are together, and she regrets now that her friend has missed this opportunity to meet someone she is certain Ak Burun would find especially intriguing. The red mare before her carries herself with grace and composure, and beyond being pleasing to the eye (Ak Burun’s favorite) she is clever. No doubt their banter would be lively, and camaraderie shared easily between three sisters born of the sand. It is a connection Shararat feels every time she meets someone among their breeds. Thus she is triply baffled by the wars carried on at her mother’s home: how do none of them feel the threads wound between each race, the unity waiting to be acknowledged and emphasized? It frustrated Iftikhar as much as Shararat that neither mare could comprehend from where the other’s perceptions stemmed.
These thoughts flow unhindered and swiftly through her mind, a back-current to the information being shared by the red mare: potential slander against Bahadir, the feminine sweep of her name, and her motivation to traverse these sands. "Oh?" Shararat is intrigued. She knows little of Bahadir beyond their moonlit meeting, the teasing introduction into each other’s lives— she wonders if seeing him in the sunlight will be as stimulating, or if she had been caught up in the romance of the evening. She is vastly curious about the stallion who oversees the Dunes. Thus far her efforts have all fallen on getting to know the other mares in the territory, for she knows they will be more consistent companions to her than the lone band stallion. Such is the way of a herd.
"Allow me to show you the way to our oasis, Nekharat," she continues as she pivots in the sand to retrace her steps. Her dished head angles toward the mare at her shoulder as she introduces herself. "My name is Shararat. I’m fairly new to this territory, myself, but I’ve learned the terrain quickly enough. As long as you keep an eye on the sun you’re not likely to get lost among these dunes. Tell me more of this claim against Bahadir," she continues, not the least bit embarrassed by her lack of knowledge on the subject. Thus far the stallion has done nothing to arouse suspicion or doubt within her, and Shararat has always been more trusting in the compassion of others than her dam. "He and I have spent little time together, though I have found no fault in him thus far. Not that he is perfect!" she is quick to assert, lest the red mare think her too quickly devoted to the first stranger to cross her path. She is no springtime filly easily swayed by the attention of a man— in truth, Shararat has given little consideration to all matters of the heart. Perhaps it is not in her nature to love that way, or perhaps she has simply not yet encountered one who would awake that heat within her. "I would hear more of this dispute for myself, to better round out what I do know of his character." |