The brother of lily and blood had not wanted to leave his First Wife yet, praying to Bast as he tore himself from her side and the yearning for a little longer entangled in, about, around, atop, beside her. It is intoxicating and he rather things their duty to the future well taken in hand by scent and by demeanor. It had not been the same even after their first coupling, so he is rather sure he had done the work of a Husband even that first night, but still she was the apple of his eye.

He had scented it, though, on the breeze. His black brother comes barreling up beside him as they run, racing into the Dunes wind where a scent is brought to them from the back of Shu. Stallion. Trespasser. He smelled of the Badlands from across the way - but it did not smell as though others were caught up with him yet. So they ran, doing the office Maslakhat had bid them in exchange for land. Herds of their own beneath Antares’ banner - exchanged for defense of the borders as they might hear or scent or see tell of intruders.

Antares sends up a call when they see him, his figure dark against the sands, The central oasis is in view and it is only luck, or perhaps the opposite, that Maslakhat is not there. The stallion slurps his water loudly, clearly not attempting at stealth, when they crest the last dune separating them from him. Their ears are pricked forward at a harsh angle atop the head of the pink stallion, but the black has pinned them so deep into his mane that it is clear only the lily-fleshed male kept him from becoming a barrage of hooves and teeth.

“lm yatim 'iikhtariun bi'ana Maslakhat yutawaqae 'ayu zayir alghurba'.” He speaks, voice low, and while not mistrusting… it is clearly defensive and his scent is thoroughly entangled with that of one particular mare if Bahadir would care to investigate scents. Atair is far less complicated, far more straight forward about his misgivings. “ladayh nazrat min naweina , lakunah lm yatasil bina qabl dukhul, 'akhi.”

Antares tilts his head, a hind hoof stamped to silence the black brother’s tense tone, extending his head forward in an offer of good faith. “hal satakun Sifuna, ghurayb?”