The trio of stallions all stand measuring each other’s motivations—a tight rope walk, carefully balanced and subject to swaying via opinions or otherwise. Cain, the thicker of the two stallions spoke first, after the polite deferral from the tall, pale one who called himself Scarecrow. Maslakhat nodded at each of them, glad to have the formalities behind them so that the real exchange of information could begin; perhaps they could get to know each other a little better now. Scarecrow’s subtlety was the first indication that he was not the ward of this land, but a diligent second, though it was also evident the two stallions regarded each other with relatively equal footing. Their partnership clearly was mutually beneficial, and Maslakhat files the how and why away for another day.

The matter at hand was the missing Arabian, and it was not Scarecrow, but Cain who thought he might have sighted her. The golden bay Akhal-Teke listened with rapt attention as he described a mare of her stature socializing with one of his sons. Of course, it could have easily been another black mare as well—surely Shararat could not be the only entirely black Arabian on all of Salem, and especially not with how his herd grew. However, this kind of curiosity sounded like it could come from Shararat, and under the assumption that what Cain was saying was true, she was not here anymore, and if she were not in the Badlands or the Dunes, it was likely she had left the island entirely.

“Thank you for your diligent observations, Cain,” Maslakhat commended. He was indeed somewhat relieved that she had not vanished into thin air, but now he knew the search had to widen, and the Akhal-Teke was not always keen on spending much time away from Salem. An adventure for another time, perhaps, or one better left to another member of his herd.

What he did not expect, was Cain’s grimace and mention of unfortunate circumstances and resulting death. Maslakhat blinked, surprised at how forthcoming the black and white stallion’s statement was, and how quickly he added that he’d be happy to assist in a scout for the missing mare.

“I cannot in good conscious burden you any more than I already have,” Maslakhat replied, sincerity evident in his solemn tone. “Especially if you have experienced recent tragedy.” He bowed his head with respect, pausing for a moment of silent reverence for their souls.

The golden bay stallion could not help but feel a tingle of curiosity sit in the back of his mind at precisely what Cain had meant by unfortunate circumstances. It was a strange choice of words. “Your offer of assistance is generous, and thusly I offer mine as well—unfortunate circumstances should be not a death sentence, if any of us can help it,” he added.

Feeling as though this was enough of a step toward a comfortable relationship with them both and proving his word that he would not overstay his welcome, Maslakhat turned away from them, pointing his head back in the direction of the Dunes before looking back over his shoulder to see if either Scarecrow or Cain wished to share any final sentiments before he took his leave.


MASLAKHAT

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