Maslakhat didn’t sleep much, maybe a few hours at a time. Instead, he often took an opportunity to rest for a few moments during the course of the long, warm desert days. The shade of the palms encircling the oasis offered pleasant respite during the hottest times, and on this particular occasion, the golden bay Akhal-Teke found himself nodding off for long enough that when he snapped awake, the round, bright moon shone in the sun’s place above him.

Snorting, he cursed himself for dozing for so long. And tonight, he was utterly alone at the oasis—unusual, and too quiet for his liking. Wasting no more time, he lifted his lithe yet muscular build into a strong gallop, charging up the nearest sand dune back to his favorite vantage point. If it weren’t for the white light of the full moon alighting the sands beneath him that glowed brightly as he ran, he might not have noticed the two dark figures in the distance lingering near the shoreline. One, narrow with a tail of white—undoubtedly Kore—and the other was her opposite—large and thick and adorned with feathers over his wide hooves.

His ears flicked backward and his nostrils curled with aversion at the nerve of the intruder in approaching the sweet, easily influenced Kore. The Akhal-Teke was strangely protective of her, despite his full faith that she was a capable woman of the desert, just like the rest of his herd. Yet there was something about Kore specifically that was different. He knew how easily swayed she was, he worried for how a strange stallion’s words might affect her mind; watching Ak Burun work her over when the two mares first met had irked him. It was too easily done, and thus not something Maslakhat commended.

He slowed to a trot, coming between the stallion and Kore, his neck arching and dark tail lashing between his legs, and amber eyes locked upon him suspiciously. “Kore,” he acknowledged her, his voice warm as he spoke her name. “I trust that this stranger is not upsetting you?”


MASLAKHAT

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