Yatimah, stand still! Jumanah told me with a snort of exasperation.
I kicked up my heels and spun around to face the patient gray mare. The morning sun hadn’t yet burned off the cool of the desert night, and a breeze lifted my tail and sent a lively shiver through my sturdy body.
I can’t stand still! I told Jumanah. There’s too much to do. Hurry, Tawil, let’s go wake up the goats!
Tawil was nursing. But he looked up when I called to him, milk beading on his whiskers.
In a minute, Yatimah, he said. I’m still hungry.
You’re always hungry. I pranced toward him, neck arched and front legs striking out playfully. Come on, let’s race! You know I’ll win again!
Tawil was a little lazy. But he could never resist a challenge. The other mares said it was because he was a colt, and that colts were like that. I wouldn’t know—Tawil was the only male horse I knew in those early days.
You won’t win this time, he warned me with a playful snort.
Giving a small buck, he took off across the oasis. I dug in and chased after him, sand flying from beneath my tiny, cuplike hooves.
The oasis where we lived was large and sprawling. A cool spring bubbled up from a depression in the dunes, forming a broad, shallow pool of fresh water. Craggy outcroppings nearby provided shade at certain times of the day, and we horses often napped there, though the camels preferred to rest beneath the tall, swaying palm trees that grew near the water. The large black woven tent where the humans lived stood on a hill with a view out into the desert, sheltered from the worst of the hot winds by the outcroppings. Birds and lizards flitted here and there, feeding on insects or the scrubby greenery of the oasis.
Despite my difficult start in life, I was growing up healthy and strong. That was a good thing, for the world in which we lived allowed for no weakness. Just outside the oasis lay the desert, vast dunes of sun-scorched sand that stretched to the horizon in every direction. As far as I knew then, that was all there was to the world. And it was enough for me. There was always something interesting to see or do.
Wake up, wake up! Tawil and I trumpeted as we blasted into the area at the base of the rocks where the small herd of sheep and goats had bedded down the previous night.
The sheep reacted as they always did—they sprang to their feet and scattered before us, bleating with terror. Even at my tender age, I already knew that sheep were silly creatures who panicked at everything. The goats were a different story. Sometimes they ran with the sheep, while at other times they would stand their ground and try to butt us with their horns. But I didn’t mind. That was all part of the fun. Besides, as agile and quick as the wily goats were, I was quicker still. It had been many days since any of the goats had been able to catch me.
As the sheep raced around like fools, the dogs started barking and rushed over to join us. They were salukis, graceful creatures the color of the sand with long limbs and silky hair fringing their legs, tails, and ears. Even though the dogs were much smaller than horses, Jumanah had warned me and Tawil to respect them, for they were hunting animals with teeth that could hurt a horse.
But these dogs knew us and were our friends. Several half-grown puppies bounded out into the midst of the sheep stampede, pretending to nip at our heels, while Tawil and I pretended to kick out at them. We dashed up the hill, past the camels. There were five of them, large and calm with wise eyes and a strong smell. They didn’t move as we frolicked past, merely chewing their cud and watching impassively while we raced around them.
One of the human women emerged from the tent just in time to see us run by, still pursued by the puppies. “Safiya!” she shouted through the veil that covered part of her face. “Hurry and come out. The foals are causing a commotion.”
“Coming!”
Safiya popped out of the tent behind the woman. When I saw her, I skidded to a stop so fast that one of the pups bumped into my hind legs with a yelp of surprise.
But I ignored him. Safiya was my favorite of all the humans. She helped her mother and the other women care for us horses, though that was not the reason she was my favorite. My first clear memory had been of her kindness, and that made her special to me in a way I cannot explain.
“Settle down, Yatimah,” the girl said with a smile, reaching up to scratch me on my favorite spot between my ears. “Now come, we have something special to eat today.”
Safiya, her mother, and the other women of the tribe were the ones who took care of the day-to-day needs of the animals. They milked the camels, gathered their dung for fuel, and made sure that all the creatures were healthy and content.
Today the women brought out a couple of baskets with some small brown fruits in them. I pricked my ears, flaring my large nostrils at the smell of the fruits. What were they?
Safiya laughed at my expression. “I think you’re the most curious foal I’ve ever seen,” she teased. “I expect you’re wondering what we have here, aren’t you? They’re dates, just like the ones that grow on the trees. The grazing here is getting sparse for you horses, even though there’s still plenty of scrub for the goats and camels. So we’ll have to start giving you dates to fill you up until it’s time to move on to rejoin our cousins at the next grazing spot.”
Her mother shot her a bemused look. “Enough talking to the animals, daughter,” she scolded. “There is work to do.”
I watched as Safiya helped pour the dates onto the hard-packed sand. Jumanah and the other mares surged forward, nickering eagerly as they reached for the dates. Tawil and I stepped closer, both of us curious.
Come, little ones, Jumanah called to us. These are good to eat.
One of the other mares, a slender liver chestnut known as Gameela, kicked out at a hungry goat that was sidling closer. Yes, they’re delicious, the mare told Tawil and me. Sweeter than the sweetest grass.
That was all I needed to hear. Pushing my way between Jumanah and an older mare called Ajouz, I grabbed one of the dates. Its flavor burst in my mouth, moist and delicious. Dates were good!
I sampled one more, chewing it with gusto. Then a bird flew past, distracting me from the food. Prancing off after it, I ended up splashing in the cool water of the oasis just for the fun of seeing the water fly up around my feet. Tawil soon followed and joined in the game.
Jumanah and the other mares were still eating when Nasr appeared at the entrance to the tent. He had his favorite falcon on his arm. He fussed with the bird’s feathers, merely chuckling when the falcon snapped at him with its sharp, curved beak.
It looks as if Nasr is going hunting, Tawil observed. Mama says he uses that falcon to catch other birds that the humans can eat. I wonder if he’ll ride Zahrat again this time.
I glanced at a horse standing with the others. She was tall for a mare, her coat the darkest bay with white coming halfway up all four legs and splashed onto her face. Her ears always seemed to be moving, swiveling about as if trying to hear everything that was happening in the entire desert, and her large eyes had a nervous expression.
Jumanah says Nasr wants to make Zahrat his new war mare since she had no foal this year, I told Tawil. But Zahrat doesn’t think Nasr likes her.
Mama says it’s because Zahrat sees danger where there is none, Tawil reported. That makes Nasr impatient with her, which only frightens her all the more.
I wasn’t sure what to think of that. But later, I watched as Nasr rode Zahrat off into the desert with his falcon on his arm. Safiya was watching, too. She came over and stood with one hand resting on my withers. Horse and man were only a few yards away when the falcon let out a sudden cry, making Zahrat jump to one side and start trembling.
“Oh, dear,” Safiya murmured. “That will not make Father think any more highly of poor Zahrat. But she cannot help it if she is more sensitive than the other mares.” She bit her lip and looked down at me. “All he can think about is that she is nothing like Sarab. Then again, no horse in the camp is, at least in his eyes.…”
I didn’t know what she meant. But her expression made me feel sad, so I let out a snort and reared up on my hind legs to make myself feel better. Within seconds, Safiya was laughing, and all was well again in my world.