The golden bay Akhal-Teke watched as a strange, red stallion approached, his ears flicking backward quickly. However, he was not unaccompanied for long, quickly followed by two of the Stars. A grin flashed over his face as his ears returned forward, and his eyes tracked their movements over the hilly sands of their home. The four Arabians he’d welcomed to share the Dunes with were vigilant, moreso than he could have imagined, and he cannot help but enjoy the upper hand this gives him. A call reached his ears, but Maslakhat was already moving toward them—even if he was out of sight, he was hardly blind to the happenings of this land.

Casually, yet not without some briskness, Maslakhat arrived at the oasis to see Antares and Atair interrogating the red-coated stranger in their shared tongue, and he listened first, his dark eyes pouring over the new stallion—there was something familiar about him he couldn’t quite place.

“You,” he beckoned, his voice deep with wariness as he stood tall near the stranger so that he was surrounded by the three of them on all sides. “I do not know you, yet you are familiar.”

The white tipped hairs in his coat and something of the shape of him was vaguely Arabian, but not entirely. His question is not accusatory, but it was demanding of answers, as if it were the deciding factor on how he would be ultimately received.

“Explain.”


MASLAKHAT

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