In a way, Amet had felt like a part of him had been restored when Iset arrived in Beqanna. He can't remember the reasons he'd used to leave her in the Dunes with Sakir, nor does he want to. She's safe with him here, away from Him, and Sakir is safe in the Dunes, where the yearling boy had always been the quiet, unharmed favorite.
He is still hesitant, of course, to have his hot-headed younger sister in Beqanna without the mediator who was Sakir. Not even slightly prepared for the constant verbal barbs, the metallic Akhal-Teke had mumbled a see you in a bit, don't follow me to Iset and then turned himself in the direction of the coast. Brennen, the winged beast who smelled of salt, had told him of a safe place called Nerine, and while the colt was not yet prepared to trust someone enough to protect his sister, he couldn't help that he wanted to see Brennen's kind bay face once again. The young Amet hadn't realized how tiring the trip would be.
He trots with heavy fatigue down the grey sand shore, his lithe body damp with sweat and sea salt. Amber eyes dart anxiously this way and that, his soft nostrils flaring to accommodate the variety of new scents. There seemed to be many here, who called this place home, and it makes Amet sweat nervously, his movements jerky and uncertain.
Finding his voice after a few minutes, the colt swallows hard before calling across the wide shore and the cliff that borders it, "Brennen?"
@[Brennen]