Maslakhat had returned to his usual outpost atop one of the largest dunes; his narrow noise pointed outward as he stood tall, shimmering like copper under the desert sun, watching and listening with ears pricked forward attentively. The business of seeing his foals hit the ground was complete, and he took to his duties with renewed vigor. He was immensely proud of his children, and of their mothers, for bringing such healthy, bright souls to life. They were already pristine examples of their kind, and he was keen to do whatever it took to ensure their health, safety and overall continued prosperity. This of course, meant remaining vigilant when it came to his borders, especially with a new, familiar yet faraway scent that lingered on the east wind. It was only a matter of time before they would cross paths again—and surely what a strange day that would be.
An unfamiliar call rang out, curious and feminine, and the golden bay Akhal-Teke’s long ears twisted to located the source—his heart leapt into his throat when he first saw her, a black Arabian, standing innocently on the beach. Not Kore, but a new face—could it be that the elusive Shararat had finally returned?
If this were the case, he knew Ak Burun would have heard the call too and be hot on his heels, so he wasted no time. With a burst of energy, he cascaded down the dune in a flurry of black legs and sand, covering ground easily with each lengthy stride until he was within an appropriate distance. He sized her up, his dark eyes glittering with intensity as his full attention danced over the unknown Arabian.
“Welcome to the Dunes,” he greeted her cooly, lightly lifting his chin with interest. “It’s quite surprising to me that we have not yet met.”
Shararat or not, Maslakhat imagined that most of the hotblooded types had found their way to Salem by now, and so it surprised him that one might have slipped his attention. Perhaps soon he would need to venture out himself. But first, the matter of this new face.
“I am Maslakhat. And you are?”
MASLAKHAT
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