Nasr came to find me as soon as the pilgrims left. He strode up to me as I grazed beside Hasna, taking me by the halter and leading me toward the tent. At first I was wary, prancing a bit rather than walking along obediently as I always did for Basim or Safiya.
As I have said, I have a good memory. While Nasr had never treated me unkindly, he had never shown me any fondness whatsoever. Quite the contrary. Every time I had tried to approach him, he had turned away and remained aloof. How could I not be surprised that he was showing me this attention all of a sudden? Perhaps a horse like calm Jumanah would not react to something like that, but I had never been as placid as she.
“Hold still,” Nasr growled after a few steps, yanking at my halter. “Do not make me regret this decision. You look so much like Sarab that it will make it all the worse if—”
He cut himself off. I had thrown my head up at his yank, but now I lowered it again, glancing at him cautiously. Sometimes I seemed able to read the humans’ thoughts and emotions almost as clearly as those of my own kind, even though humans offered little of the same clarity in their body language. However, Nasr was different from Safiya or Basim or the others. He had always closed himself off to me. Why should I trust him now?
But Basim and Safiya had trained me well. I stood mostly still while Nasr put on my saddle and bridle. And I only pranced a little as he swung aboard. As he settled into the saddle, I went still again, waiting for his direction. He pressed his legs against my sides, and I walked forward. But my neck was up and tense, since I still felt wary.
At first he returned my wariness in kind. His aids were abrupt and felt unfamiliar. When he patted or praised me, it did not feel natural as it did coming from Safiya, Basim, or any of the others. It was as if he was forcing himself to be kind to me.
However, he kept trying. Throughout that ride and the next several, he stayed calm and patient, testing my reactions and my gaits.
With each ride, I relaxed more and more. Though I couldn’t yet feel true affection from him, I could sense that he was trying as well as he knew how to form a bond with me. And if he was willing to try, I would try also. In fact, I was eager to do so. What need had I to know the reason for his change of heart? I would accept it, no matter where it had come from, much the way the humans themselves accepted travelers into their home with no questions asked.
And so the two of us had begun our training together. It wasn’t always easy. Nasr’s hand was heavier than his son’s and his corrections less gentle. Whenever we galloped, he would pull me to a stop with the reins, even though all Basim had needed was a shift in weight. As much as I tossed my head to show my discomfort, he continued to do it.
“Stop fussing, will you?” he exclaimed at one such time. Through the reins, I felt his grip tighten and I quickly lifted my nose higher, anticipating a harder pull on my mouth.
But it didn’t come. Nasr’s hands relaxed again, and he sighed. “You’re not Sarab,” he muttered under his breath. “Allah forgive me, I should not expect you to be her. You can only be yourself, after all, like any of us.”
He leaned forward and stroked my neck beneath my silky black mane. I relaxed, lowering my head and blowing out through my nostrils. I was beginning to see that while Nasr’s punishments were swifter than Basim’s, they were always fair. He didn’t allow himself to react in anger, but only to guide me to do better.
And before long his praise came more often than the punishments. I started to anticipate what he would ask of me before he had to ask it, just as I had with Basim. Nasr barely had to close his legs to send me into a brisk trot or rolling canter. He no longer needed to pull on the reins to slow me or bring me to a halt. I would react to the merest shift in weight, offering what he wanted before his own muscles had fully formed the aid. We were functioning as one—one body, one mind.
After an especially good ride, he slid down and came to my head. “I can see I was wrong about you, my beautiful one,” he said quietly. “The blood of a thousand generations of great war mares runs in your veins. How could I ever think you would not be worthy of Sarab’s lineage? After all, she sacrificed her life to bring you into this world.…”
Lifting his hand, he rubbed my broad forehead. I lowered my face toward him, allowing my eyes to fall half-closed and my lower lip to droop. I leaned into him as he ran his hands up over my poll and down my crest, scratching all the itchy spots. In that moment, there was neither past nor future, herdmates nor oasis. I was content just being there with my human.
After that, I began to seek Nasr out almost as eagerly as I did Safiya. I nickered if he walked past the herd, and if he stopped and looked at me, I went to him. He rewarded me with pats and kind words. True, he was never as expressive as Safiya or even Basim. But I could read what was in his heart, and that was far more important.
Time passed. One evening, as the moon climbed the night sky, I saw a flare of firelight as the tent flap opened. A moment later, Nasr and his three older sons made their way into the herd on feet as quick and silent as a saluki’s. Basim went to Zahrat and began preparing her to ride, while his brothers did the same with Hasna and Ibtisam.
Meanwhile Nasr came to me. “Now we shall see what you are made of, my beauty,” he whispered as he brushed the sand from my back. “We need more sheep. It is time to go get some.”