Her pride and her possessiveness had never seemed to extend to Sidika, but then she had rare cause to factor the mare or her son as somehow impeding on her time with Maslakhat or his affection. Ak Burun was all but a djinn, rarely interacting, and therefore not an impediment on the portion of the pie she was due. Shenzi? Well, she was not necessarily ugly, but she was also less than keen to take up the space around her stallion.

When she finally finds Maslakhat, when Sarisi finally gets a chance to be with her father again, she was less than keen on sharing him. She slides in beside him, putting as much of her body against him as was possible, letting herself feel the oncoming season without drowning in it so far as to forget the brilliant glimmer of their daughter - fruits of their first coupling. "I would sooner die than allow such a transgression," he says, and she all but purrs for the reaffirmation of his claim on her. It was perhaps silly - last year she was all but screaming at the world for someone trying to purchase her for the same purpose as she had found in Maslakhat - but at least he was her choice.

When his eyes reach out across his lands, she can see the seeking nature of his gaze. "There have been some calls for our Sidika - but last I saw of her she was well and your son was with her. Should we go find th--"

"Good to see you again Maslakhat. Her words are not finished before the greeting and even with the soft and friendly tone, Merwerit was a woman of the desert reuniting with a long-away lover. She was not so meek or mild with a stranger as she might have been with her nurse and co-mare off healing the sick. "Hello," The mare offers as an afterthought, or perhaps an aside, before claiming the attention of her stallion once more. "I hope I’m not interrupting, but I was hoping you could tell me more about Bahadir and the family I come from. I want to know more of my heritage."

Merwerit was a pearl perhaps, but she was not only a bauble to hang about the neck without use. She was strung with a garrot for just such moments as these. "You are perhaps too hopeful, then." She says with little hesitation, ears laced back into her white-cream mane and champagne gold eyes flashing. "Anne?" Comes a nervous chirrup from around the other side of her father, uncomfortable with the sharp tone of her mother when normally the child was more spirited and open to making new friends. "Do not mind, Sari. Go and perhaps find your brother. You know you may find the Arabs if you find trouble on the way."

She had come to learn at least as much as their value of children, that the princesses born to their leader were treated with near reverence. She, on the other hand, had a problem to tend right there on that little patch of too-populated sand. When Sarisi gave a small pout at her mother, then a longing glance at her father, she spun on her heel and made off across and over a dune. With that, her mother turns her golden eyes on the filly, only wrapping herself the more around Maslakhat.