The sun burns hot in the clear sky, turning stern eyes onto the pair standing beside the oasis. It would be a normal affair to anyone looking—except, the tilt of her chin or the twitch of her ear, perhaps the way his eyes look at her or the solemn shrug of his shoulder. They are indifferent to one another and yet, they are also engrossed with each other. For every twinge on her mouth, for every deep laugh bubbled up from his throat. They dance on ancient, dusty ground and in this strange land, it is eerily familiar. If nothing else, this prince, this mad and dashing prince, gives her a semblance of normalcy.

Yet—

“If anyone should turn away from the Motherland, it should be me,” she says suddenly and lifts up her chin. Her dark eyes stare up at him and Zazu looks stern, almost like a block of ice in the middle of an endless desert. “I was not born to Mira yet I am her loyal servant, even as no more than a trinket, a slave to the people, taken from the Tribe of Shu on the Southern Steppe.”

Zazu hums, her body buzzes. She chews at her lips trying to swallow down everything she has to say, everything that has been building in her all her life. “How do you think it must feel then? I do not belong to Mira, not as you or yours brothers. I was born a free spirit, a child of Shu to wander the desert and the plains and run free—”

“Run and run and never look ahead but no,” Zazu pauses and her eyes are surprised by her own outburst towards him. The muscle along the crest of her neck twinges. “I’m sorry, prince. I must hold my tongue, my mother says I am too fiery for any true position. It’s why I was never allowed to run in the festivals to represent my platoon.”

She turns her head from him, her eyes blinking furiously at her own weakness—how could she spill out all those things? Zazu shakes her head, her mane, forelock falling into her eyes, as she gathers her composure. “Please,” she murmurs, “where will I be staying for the night?”

[ mare - four - wild bay sabino - arabian - 14.2hh ]