“Not today, sweet thing, I’m sorry to say,” came the voice, rumbling out of the shadows of the clustered palms. Moments later, Shenzi limped into view, a flash of fire in her eyes despite the pain that glazed them. A flicker of a smile was offered in greeting to the grey arab mare, and then the barb took a moment to cast a furtive glance around, before beckoning her unwitting companion closer. Once the grey had drawn near, the battered brown mare introduced herself properly. “I am called Shenzi. And who are you, chaser of the winds?” The stocky seal bay couldn’t claim to have met any among Maslakhat’s herd properly, nor any of those under the protection of the quartet of brothers who also resided among the Dunes. But that did not mean she did not know any of them. She had learned much of the dwellers of the sands in her wanderings.
And as of late, she had learned of herself – of a weakness she’d tried to be ignorant of – and what happened to any who strayed too far, and wandered too long alone.
Shenzi was left with a wound as a reminder. The claws of the lioness had caught, torn right across her throat. She was lucky to be alive, and the truth of this still trembled in her bones. As it was, she was still quite a mess. Her chest was still sticky with blood, though the wounds had started to congeal. Each movement was rewarded with a sharp, twinging pain. It even hurt to breath. But Shenzi was no stranger to pain, and she could bear this, too. Once she had cleaned the wounds, she would feel better then.
“It looks worse than it is,” the barb attempted to reassure her companion. Her focus slid away, and upon catching sight of no others, no slim, golden bay figure shimmering like the sands themselves, Shenzi seemed satisfied to venture farther from her hiding place, making her way slowly to the water. “Usijali – do not worry for me.” Wading a little ways into the oasis, Shenzi bent her forelegs, submersing her chest and torn throat, and tensing momentarily before relaxing and finding relief in the coolness upon her skin.
Turning her head slightly, chin dripping water, Shenzi sought to catch the grey mare’s gaze. In spirit, they were so alike; fierce and strong, though this presented itself differently in each of them. And they were both built for the desert. They belonged. But in this belonging, they were vastly different; the grey was beautifully formed and built to fly across the sands. Shenzi was solid and stocky, born to fight until the end. And how she fought, and would fight... But there would be none of that in the days to follow, not until she recovered, and regained her strength. And this thought brought the barb to the question that she’d been silently asking herself, to pass the time she’d spent wrapped up in her solitude, masterfully avoiding Maslakhat, as she was wont to do. He had surely noted her extended absence, but Shenzi sincerely hoped he’d not yet grown suspicious. “Pray tell, friend, have you seen the healer in your recent roaming?”
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