The night that Maslakhat had at last laid eyes upon Shenzi had been fraught with satisfaction from both of their perspectives. The Barb mare had been elusive, and he had diligently pursued her, mostly out of curiosity but also to fulfill a feeling, an instinct he possessed that there was something especially unique about her. Her story was a tragic one, and on that night he had made her a promise—to protect her from any ill-meaning individuals who sought to cause her harm. Restitution, vengeance, all of those sins done to her would be answered for in time. Those that had wronged her would be held accountable, and Maslakhat was keen to help her with this. Her strength was rare, for there were little left of her kind, and to see her press forward with all this in her heart and still possess a bright flame was indeed special. The golden bay Akhal-Teke had a great respect for any who could slog through quicksand their entire life without sinking.
Ever vigilant, Maslakhat lifted his head to acknowledge a call that rang across the sands—loud and specific, for him. It was the voice of a male, unfamiliar, but not threatening as a battle call might be. A prickle of wariness bubbled in his gut, but he heeded it regardless, swiftly galloping over the soft sands with lengthy strides until he sighted a dark, painted stallion on the shoreline, scanning the horizon expectantly. He slowed to a walk with an abrupt spray of sand, calling back to him and tossing his head as he approached.
“You seem to know who I am, but I do not know you,” Maslakhat stated plainly, his dark eyes sizing up the other. “Why have you come and beckoned me so?” Surely whatever this stallion’s reasoning, it must have been important—very rarely did other stallions cross into this land with such urgency so keenly without a purpose.
MASLAKHAT
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