Masozi leaned her forehead gently on the mares nose as she scented the slave with her velveteen muzzle. Masozi had always loved horses, had cherished the thought of having one of her own when she was younger but such things were a ridiculous dream to her now. When the horses breath suddenly left her face the African woman glanced up to the snap of her inkosis fingers, completely oblivious to the brief exchange that had taken place prior to her moment with the silver beauty.
Glancing briefly back at the affronted trader she rose to place a gentle hand in Sirius', walking closer to the mares hindquarters and placing a steadier hand there, skillfully pushing herself onto the ihhashi and mounting her with little need for help. She would not need her masters help in all things, this seemed to say. "Thank-you," the man grumbled with a brief bow, before taking his cart horse by the reigns and tugging its head about, walking the cart away toward the East. With a contended sigh Masozi gently formed herself to the mans muscular back, running her fingertips along his side until they rested firmly on his hips. Ingabe mina zo hhyai wena-bulala lungile-kho, she mused silently, enjoying the planes of his body against hers and the coarseness of the saddle beneath her.