Take Me Out (Ahmed)

Ahmed

Walking was not a gate Ahmed was accustom to taking on his treks across the desert but today he was not quite in the mood. He had run this path so many times it was beginning to bore him. Every day was much the same, though the wind kept the dunes ever changing the minute movements of the sand from hour to hour was not enough to keep the young stallion entertained. He needed excitement, something to spice up his day but it didn't seem likely he'd find any soon. The summer solstice was still months off and Ahmed didn't expect any break off bands of Asil to visit any time soon. He would know after all, seeing as he was the one who scouted the dunes each day.

Those were always his favorite celebrations. The nature of their culture made seeing new faces a rare occasion but for the most part Ahmed could accept that because it made the arrival of a new group of Asil a huge festival. Members were gained and lost, old friends reunited and new friends made but it had been some time since there and been any such reunion.

Perhaps that is what had brought him to Dask Canyon, or at least the reasons were similar. It was unlikely he would find any fellow Asil wandering here but there was always the chance an Abhal might be here. Thought he understood the taboo against interacting with the lowbloods, the young prince could not deny the certain excitement that accompanied the thought of meeting one face to face. He had seen some at Dask before from a distance but never up close.

As he rounded the final dune before the canyon Ahmed felt his heart race, anticipation lifting his tail and laying it across his back, but when he rounded the corner he found he was not quite as prepared to actually find something as he might have thought.

At the sight of the mare who's coat so closely mirrored his own, Ahmed was shocked to a stand still for a moment... But only a moment before his nostrils flared and he squealed in well, he wasn't quite sure. Was it excitement, warning, welcome, or challenge? Probably a all of those and more but one thing was certain, this mare required further investigation.

Breaking into an wary, still legged canter Ahmed slammed to a stop a horse length from the mare, tossing his head in agitation before sizing her up. She was certainly not what he had expected - small, fleabitten, refined. Nothing about her screamed foreign, though there was something off about her coat that he couldn't quite place. Had he run across a nomad Asil after all?

"Be you Asil, or Abhal mare? Are you a child of the Desert Sun?"