Rigel, the diplomat with whom he spoke a season ago when he and his brothers had all initially arrived upon the Dunes was first to greet the newest pair, his manner bright as the galaxy of white that’s splashed across his coat. Maslakhat was not far behind, though he showed no such haste as he headed in their direction. He was glad to see Rigel uphold his pledged duty as a sentry, though he also suspected that there was a bit more motivation spurring the Arabian stallion than usual in this case. The smaller mare was certainly worthy of his attention, though the golden bay Akhal-Teke was curious about the dynamic between her and the larger, cream-colored Teke.

He spent a careful moment watching them alone before Rigel’s eager approach, assessing the fiery nature of the girl and the levelheadedness of the stallion. They seemed weary, but not winded—bearing the look of two who had been through something significant, and thus traveled quite far to find the Dunes. Maslakhat wondered if their desires held something beyond escape and respite, though whatever their reasons for being here, he was not overly suspect. He worked hard to ensure these sands were open to all whose blood was befitting of them and these two were no exception.

Snorting lightly to himself, the Akhal-Teke made a silent bet that Rigel might be received too strongly. Maslakhat knew him to be the talkative sort, and so as the golden bay stallion at last drew within earshot, he was once again not surprised that the Arabian’s dialogue was ongoing.

He bowed his head lightly to the both of them, offering a quiet and respectful acknowledgment of welcome. “I am Maslakhat,” he said steadily, waiting for an appropriate pause in conversation.


MASLAKHAT

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