Firestone Hot Springs mare's milk

“I do not know it; that is why I wish to hear it.” He sees her dark eyes and the glow of the water reflected in them.

“I am not married. If a nomad has wives, they are not happy ones. We are on the road too long.” It was not a stallion’s appetite that constrained his desire for women, it was his wealth— and the horseman had nothing but the skin on his back to offer a kept woman. Though it was more than this. He had chosen the furthest path away from the khan land; away from a proper ger. Wives wanted children, and children were raised in homes, not on the road.

“Jamukha,” he rests impassively, but with ears trained for the woman. “And your’s?”