The wind brought him a new scent this day, and the golden bay stallion’s nostrils flare with anticipation. He trekked toward the center of the Dunes, spotting first a path of disrupted sand leading in the direction of the oasis. He paused to lower his nose to the trail, following it accordingly until he lifted his head and saw a rose grey mare standing between the slender trunks of the sparsely dotted palms that defied all hardship and grew from the arid earth.

She was unfamiliar to him, but they shared common heritage, her shape and shimmer undoubtedly a signet of his kind. He also noticed she bore a blood mark similar to a mare he once knew—the imposing Arabian seer, El Halin. Maslakhat approached slowly, careful to announce himself with a respectful nicker, lest he startle the stranger. He wondered silently whether she was a seer as well. If so, this would certainly make for an interesting conversation.

“Welcome misafir,” he greeted her in the tongue of their kind, testing her origins innocuously. “I am Maslakhat, warden of these sands.”

He paused a moment to gauge her reaction before he continued. He was curious of her reasons for coming here, though he cannot say he was surprised to see her. Over the last few months, Maslakhat had worked to cultivate a place that welcomed and embraced their kind. It was only natural that word would spread across the islands well enough that a wayward soul who searched for their rightful place might find it here, if their heritage was so befitting.

If she was not here to stay, perhaps she would elect to make the cause for her presence known and he might assist her. After all, if she was indeed a seer, the gods would favor those who saw fit to enable their stewards—and Maslakhat was never known to trifle with forces he could not control.


MASLAKHAT

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