The golden stallion’s ears flick forward with satisfaction as she confirmed she had not been harmed. She answered in their shared tongue, but her dialect was strange to him—which may well explain why she was clad with foreign objects. Clearly she came from a faraway land, and he knew the desert of his homeland to be vast. Despite this fact, he was not the least bit surprised to see her here, given that their kind was also known for their endurance, capable of traveling over long distances without tiring. Still he was curious, having never seen anything like the pieces of metal and fabric she was adorned with in his lifetime.

However, Merwerit was not so forthcoming.

She teased him in the common tongue and sped away with the promise of more answers, as if the encounter with the jackals had not fazed her in the least. He stifled a laugh at her retort and snorted instead, watching her gallop with practiced expertise before joining her in pursuit.

“Does all that gösterişli önemsiz weigh you down, miss Merwerit?” He called as he steadily gained on her, his long neck outstretched as his stride lengthened with every step. He was a practiced runner himself, quite adept at covering ground over shifting sands, though he held no carefully cultivated pedigree for it. Perhaps on a flat plain she would have bested him, or maybe she had hardly even begun to test her speed and this was still part of her games.

Maslakhat does not mind her antics. Having dealt with many a mare in his life, he often found the ones who played hard to get—in this case, literally—the most rewarding when he proved himself worthy of their attention. After all, he would hardly pursue a mare who wasn’t, and they were few in far between.


MASLAKHAT

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