Seti's dark eyes settled over the inhabitants of Sh and in the blinding afternoon light he could just make out what remained of the battle. Several copper-brown blood splatters lay drying in the sun and several of the injured limping around.
To the horses below, one could see a young stallion of glossy black standing out in stark contrast on the green crest of one of the northern hills. He looked to be of Abrabian decent, leanly built and smaller framed than most, with strong, well muscled legs and a gracefully arching neck. His mane was dark as his coat and it danced wildly around his head in shining ripples.
He jerked his head up a few times and flared his nose before smiling suddenly and turning his head to meet the sound of another horse coming from behind.
It was another stallion and it limped up to stop just before Seti's shoulder. They looked alike minus the older one's slight limp and the white scar that crossed his forehead, father and son. By their stance and bearing one could glean that they were not wanderers or rogues and that the elder had little interest in what went on below. The younger Seti, on the other hand, had his tail held high and ears swiveling.
