Maslakhat had noticed Ak Burun’s absence over the last season, and as much as it was not surprising, he did find it suspicious. Mostly because Kore had been at large during the majority of the fall as well, and upon her return, she saw fit to blame the golden bay Akhal-Teke for his failure to dote upon her, among other misplaced feelings. It was such an unexpected shift from the quiet, thoughtful mare he had come to know in the early days of their herd that he suspected that there was something else at play besides the white-tailed Arabian’s own insecurities. In fact, it smelled distinctly of Ak Burun’s influence.
On the day of the black mare’s return, the two Akhal-Tekes locked eyes from either side of the oasis, standing idle under the winter sun. Her white nose pointed at him from the edge of the water’s shallows, while he stared back at her with an unwavering, critical gaze—two knights on a chessboard, positioned just so. He wondered what it was she truly wanted—clearly it was not the company of her sister. After all, she was capable enough that he suspected if she really wished to find her, she would have done so already. This search seemed to him a farce, a masquerade for another true purpose to which she kept locked away.
Her call broke the tepid air and he waited another moment before heeding it, snorting lightly as he slowly ambled along the edge of the water, closing the gap between them until he was a mere neck’s length from her.
“You’ve returned. Alone,” he stated plainly, calling attention to her lack of accompaniment by either dark Arabian. He suspected she would not take kindly to this observation, but he did not fear her wrath. She was serpent with poison in her fangs, but he was immune to her venom. She could strike out at him, sink in her teeth and yes, he would bleed, but he would not fall.
MASLAKHAT
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