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Nekharat blinked as Valens fussed over her, arranging her sparse forelock just so that it curled around her ear and fell on the side of her face in a flattering manner. He was so different than anyone else she had ever met, so attentive and inquisitive. He made her feel good in the strangest way—like she was ready to take on anything. “That’s true,” she agreed with a smile and small laugh as he concluded his doting. It was the sort of readiness she needed, especially given that she was not looking forward to the last leg of her investigation. Her eyes darted to the Peak, looming large in the distance.
There was something daunting about the mountain from which Amduat had said she came, and something even more ominous about the mare herself. She had appeared like a wraith seemingly out of nowhere to admonish the buckskin and bolster Nekharat’s freedom of choice. But she disappeared so quickly, Nekharat had barely gotten any sense of who she was at all. The curiosity pulled at her like the moon pulled the tides, and so she thought it a wise decision to pay her a visit, much like she had visited the Dunes.
“I have never had a home,” she admitted. “I prefer the freedom of wandering—beholden only to my own whims.” She laughed lightly again at his humorous assumption. “I do enjoy the desert lands immensely, however—the challenge of thriving in such a place is invigorating. Plus, the sand dunes are wondrously beautiful.” She paused a moment before finishing her thought. “And you, Valens?”
NEKHARAT
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