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colt’s head shot up, but he stood his ground, staring passively across the enclosure.
    “Tiran!” Sirak called out once again. “Why won’t he come, Papa?”
    “Give him time, Son. I’m sure it’s been hard for him not to see you for such a long time. Let’s get a little closer.”
    Sirak and his father ducked between the rails of the fence and took a few steps into the enclosure. Tiran trotted toward them, but stopped. Turning, he stared at Sirak from a distance.
    “He hasn’t been ridden since you got hurt, Sirak. Give him a few moments.”
    “Tiran, please,” Sirak pleaded, holding out his arms.
    Suddenly, the colt bolted forward, and, pushing his nose into Sirak’s chest, nearly knocked him down. Sirak broke into a big smile. He brushed his fingertips through Tiran’s mane. The horse whinnied happily and nuzzled against the boy’s side.
    “That’s my Tiran!” Sirak exclaimed gleefully. “I missed you so much, boy!”
    “Always treat him with great love and respect, my son, and he will be your loyal friend and companion for many years to come.”
    “How long
do
horses live, Papa?”
    “Well, that depends. If you take good care of him, he may live for thirty more years.”
    “
Thirty years
? That’s really a long time—isn’t it?”
    “Yes, that’s a very long time. Tiran is a lucky horse to have such a loving master. And you know what?”
    “What?”
    Mourad smiled. “I think he knows that.”
    Sirak returned his father’s smile and brushed his hand down Tiran’s muscular chest.
    Mourad slipped a bit into the stallion’s mouth and pulled the reins across his back. “I’ll lift you up on his back, but I’m not letting you ride on your own yet. Just let me lead him. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Papa.”
    Mourad lifted Sirak up onto Tiran’s back. The boy grasped the horse’s mane with one hand and the reins with the other. Mourad walked the horse slowly along the fence. The colt didn’t make the slightest effort to gallop off with the boy—as he had many times in the past.
    “I think he wants to run, Papa,”
    “No, he doesn’t. Horses are very intelligent and instinctive animals. I’m sure Tiran saw your limp, and he understands there’s a reason you haven’t been here to feed him and ride for these past few weeks.”
    Mourad led Tiran past his mother at the back of the corral. Continuing at a deliberate pace, he walked the colt three full circles around theenclosure before finally pulling up at the main gate. Tiran whinnied contentedly.
    “Okay, Son, it’s getting dark. That’s enough for today.”
    Mourad lifted Sirak off Tiran and pulled the bit out of the horse’s mouth.
    Sirak wrapped his arms around the colt’s front leg and gave him a hug. He turned and took his father’s outstretched hand. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Tiran,” he called out.
    Mourad stepped inside the house and Sirak limped slowly after him. Stepannos and Mikael looked up from the game of chess they were playing at the table.
    Kristina stepped out of the kitchen. “There’s plenty for Kemal and Özker.”
    “I invited them, but Kemal wanted to get home. He’s helping the Tarkanians with their crop tomorrow.”
    Kristina cupped the back of her son’s head. “How did things go with Tiran?” she asked lovingly.
    Sirak smiled tiredly. “Papa let me ride him around the corral. I missed him so much, and I think he missed me, too.”
    “Of course he did. After all, you fed and played with him every single day from the day he was born right up until the day you got hurt. Horses get very attached to their masters.”
    “Did you ever have your own horse, Mama?”
    Kristina stirred a pot with a wooden spoon and carried it to the table. “Yes,” she said, with a nostalgic smile. “Her name was Nera. Papa gave her to me for my ninth birthday, and she was my closest friend.”
    Sirak frowned. “What happened to her?”
    “She had a long healthy life and we had lots of fun together, but now