Atop his usual lookout he rested, one hoof tipped on its toe and his nose pointed over the expanse of dunes that sprawled before him. Winter winds brought black clouds, twisting and tumbling above him and casting the sands under an encroaching veil of darkness. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the golden bay Akhal-Teke stood idle, watching the storm roll in; his deep black mane and tail became a tangle of wiry, sparse hair in the increasingly strong winds. Without warning, a streak of white lightning stretched across the sky, jumping in a flash from one cloud to another and sending a louder crack of thunder in its wake. He snorted. Time to move.
Maslakhat turned and descended the dune, expertly navigating over the soft sands and sliding carefully down the steeper angles. Another loud snap of lightning rang overhead and he looked skyward, watching the angry, dark clouds swell. He could smell the electricity in the air; hurrying his steps, he at last launched his lithe, muscular frame into a strong gallop. The clouds behind him opened up as he ran, and the rains roared with unabashed fury at his heels.
He made haste for the oasis, knowing the palms would provide some measure of shelter from the storm until it passed. From experience, he imagined the onslaught would be over quickly. It was rare to see rain as significant as this on Salem, though it was necessary for a bountiful spring. However, even he could not outrun such a force of nature and within several strides of his arrival at the central oasis, the wall of water reached him, soaking his thin coat in seconds.
He blinked rain from his eyes, snorting again as he stepped under a large palm and waited. It was enough to provide shelter from the brunt of the torrent, but it was hardly a dry place to stand. Water collected in puddles at his feet, the arid landscape not equipped to soak up such a significant amount of rain at any kind of proper rate as he tried to see if anyone else was close by. Visibility was limited however, the relentless rain casting a grey shroud all around him and washing away any scents that might have lingered.
And without as much as another rumble of thunder, the rain suddenly lessened and then stopped entirely. The palm fronds above him dripped, heavy with water, falling into the pools at his feet as he at last moved out from under the palm. Blue sky peeked between the edges of grey and white clouds as they drifted innocently above him, and Maslakhat shook the rain from his coat as he approached the edge of the muddied brown water. He would need to wait to drink.
And so once again, he waited.
MASLAKHAT
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