It was not long at all before they were approached, something that the Teke was glad of, not just because they needed somewhere to recuperate, but also because the young mare beside him needed more than Kahraman was capable of giving her. Relief and disappointment warred within him upon catching sight of the dark Arabian stallion that approached. He did not know this stranger, and he carried no familiar scent. But he was undoubtedly of the blood, and seem strong and healthy. Shahrazad would do well here. At the peaceful greeting, Kahraman bowed his head, eyeing the mare to his side as he did so. She seemed to stand transfixed for a moment, but just as Kahraman considered prompting her, the chestnut sabino mare bowed deeply, her pale golden mane slipping down like a veil to cover her face

“Wa ʿalaykumu s-salām,” Shahrazad replied, and though in that moment the emotion in her eyes was hidden from all, it was evident enough in her voice.

The Teke stallion had heard her speak her Language before, now and then, though she had picked his up quite readily and it pained him that her treatment during her time in his homeland had taught her to default to it. There was nothing like hearing words spoken in another’s Mother-Tongue. Shahrazad was a pleasure to listen to, always, but she truly came alive with her own Language in her mouth. Kahraman had never heard her like this, and it made him wonder whether she felt the same as he had once – heartsick for his Homeland and his People. It had been far too long since Shahrazad had been blessed in such a manner, to hear the greeting spoken, to be offered peace, to have such words given to her – words that spoke to her heart – from a mouth in which they belonged.

Kahraman was pleased for the questions, for they distracted him from his sadness and found himself stepping forwards to answer. “Shukraan, Rigel,” he said, appreciative of the warm reception. But the cremello stallion was not a weaver of words the way his younger companion was, and ever practical, decided it was best to be straight-forward (but not unkindly so) about their purpose in coming here. “No, I am not familiar with Maslakhat, and nor did we come seeking you. There was a mare --”

“You are Rigel, of the Sons of Mira?” Shahrazad’s interruption was unexpected, but even as she cut Kahraman off, for once she did not turn to him (even as he, in his surprise, turned to her, but only for a moment did the incredulity flicker across his face before he stood composed and impassive again, unreadable). Her eyes, blue like water and sky all at once, were fixed upon Rigel’s face and she studied his expression with unguarded hope. It was one of the marked differences between the pair who’d come ashore upon the Dunes. Where Kahraman was so closed off, everything about Shahrazad was open and honest. “I heard tell of a story, not long after I was born. My earliest memory; the Sons of Mira. The tale claims…” Here, the young mare caught herself, and paused, allowing her gaze to dip from Rigel’s a moment, before returning to him. The better to show him respect, and to present herself in a manner more fitting. “Is it true you and your brothers were named for the stars?”

More might have been spoken in their shared Tongue, had another not approached, one who was like Kahraman, but darker in shade, and equally as mysterious to the young Arab mare. Kahraman shifted beside her ever so slightly, and then stepped forward to greet the bay stallion. “Selamlar sana, Maslakhat, I am Tarkan, and my companion in Shahrazad. We meant no intrusion, but came here seeking a place to rest, and I had hoped to reconnect with a friend of mine, a black marwari mare with a white face.”

Beside him, Shahrazad spared him a glance, understanding of his words only the customary greeting he had spoken in his one Tongue and her name. The hesitation with which he spoke one word in the Common tongue of the Isles, however, was rather curious. But not even the brooding stallion with his old wounds and myriad secrets could hold her attention from returning to Rigel, and after a moment, Shahrazad stepped away from Kahraman’s side, approaching the Arabian stallion, a little in awe of him, and a little unsure of herself.