she is never far from him, in spirit at least…. her half-brother, bahadir, or at least the thought and comfort of his existence, is usually forefront in her mind. after so long thinking she was alone, totally and eternally, the thought of their familial bond brings her deep peace. he is all that is left of the past that she had once been willing to let go.

they had drifted apart somewhat after the upset in the dunes some seasons ago… it troubled her naturally, but bhaskara had faith that it would all would fall back into place eventually. it took time to process these things.

the blood bay mare had spent some time looking after a lost wanderer, the “little” fjodur, whose presence was anything but small. she had even shepherded the mare to the crossing, leaving salem for the first time in a long while. she could not be long away, though… before too long her legs ached to feel of shift of sand beneath them.

since she has been back, bhaskara has taken to her old habit of lurking on the borders of the salem territories. she fell into it easily, skirting around the edge of the desert, meandering the border of the dunes…. never so far in that she would attract much attention, but just enough to keep an eye out for goings-on. the badlands didn’t have the same allure that salem’s other regions did.

she isn’t sure it is luck or fate that has drawn her to bahadir’s scent at the present, but she doesn’t care either. bhaskara finds herself ignoring the proprietary boundary of the dunes to follow the trail he has laid in the sand and the wind. her curled ears train themselves forward, and her dark eyes are watchful for his figure as she dances across the sloping shifting masses of gold… what is her little brother up to?

he is where she had anticipated his trail to lead, in the same fateful place that they had become aware of each others existence. the memory makes her heart lurch happily… but he is not alone. though it would likely be more prudent, and normally she is very prudent, bhaskara does not hesitate to glide down the embankment of sand toward the four figures beside the water.

the shining copper- bay mare, unmarked by any white, approaches without fear, inserting herself beside her brother without fanfare. she had vowed, upon finding him, that she would stand beside him and endeavor to find his happiness, and she had not forgotten. her black muzzle, dark as velvet, brushes bahadir’s shoulder gently before her head dips in a graceful acknowledgment to the three before them, hoping this little meeting, no matter the purpose of it, would be a peaceful one.