The pale stallion-colt feels quite…. Out of place as of late. He used to spend his days inventing new ways to avoid babysitting Swyk all day when the younger boy trailed after him with annoying questions. With him gone, Cahyr just isn't quite sure what to do with himself. The buckskin mare that he relished taunting had already disappeared this morning. He could go in search of her. Hell, maybe even father or mother might make time for some sparing this morning, but well, without Swyk to look on with utter admiration, even that seemed to have lost its luster. Cahyr would never admit it aloud, but if he were being honest, he was bored. There was only so long that he could taunt the golden mare before her teeth made contact. And it hurt when they did. The first time he complained to his mother, she merely rolled her eyes and said he no doubt deserved it. (he really did) He considered going to Asmodeus to tattle but feared garnering the same reaction Nyimara had given him. So, instead of tracking down Goldenrod, the young stallion headed towards the large oasis just inside the western border.

His chipped hooves shuffle along the worn path, sending up small plumes of dust in the air. Winter was the most dramatic of seasons that the Desert saw. Even though the sun had long risen above the horizon to hang high in the sky, it was still not uncommon to find pockets of frost and ice in places where rocks sheltered the earth. Without even putting thought into it, Cahyr found himself slipping from the path to crunch through these patches of ice as he came across them. There was something satisfying in the menial task he set for himself, and it made the trek to the oasis more entertaining. As a matter of fact, he had almost forgotten his reason for coming until the cream boy found himself wading through the dry buffalo grass that grew in abundance around the water source.

Most of the herd made the daily journey to the watering holes in the early hours of predawn before the sun had even risen above the horizon. So Cahyr fully expected to have the icy waters and dry grass to himself. He never expected to find himself face-to-face with a stranger.

His eyes find her lithe frame the moment his ashen muzzle pushes through the veil of pompous grass that lines the bank at the water’s edge. Surprise dances in his blue-green eyes as for a moment, he stares back at the stranger unmoving. She is pretty, and from the looks of it, not much older than himself, but she is not a fixture in the Desert herd. Cahyr would have known.

Clearing his throat to draw her attention, the pale stallion-colt steps cautiously around the muddy bank towards the girl, his fluted ears forward. Curiosity and suspicion war in his gaze as he keeps the girl within his sights. ”You aren't from around here are you?” he asks, coming to a halt when there is a few yards left between them. He did not want to scare her off and judging by the tension beneath her painted body, he knew he wasn’t far off from his assessment. A boyish grin tugs at the corners of his whiskered lips as he tilts his head ever so slightly, ”Who are you?” he asks, more for his own knowledge than anything else. He knows that he should be alerting mother and father to this trespasser or at the very least, attempting to herd her back to father for an explanation as to her origins. He should be trying to prove that he was learning well how to be a strong heir, but… well, he isn't sure. Something about her awakens a dormant part of him that suddenly wants to keep something… keep her… for himself. At least for now anyway. So patiently, he waits for her response.

CAHYR

firebringer son of the Desert sands