Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
His tolerance for the mixed breed evaporates the moment the boy speaks. For a moment, Gabbar almost thought the yearling would reply in his own tongue, dishing out a light-hearted insult to encourage the Arabian to continue to spar. But this was not his desert. This child, this yearling with soiled bloodlines speaks in the common tongue and with an arrogance he does not yet have the experience to back up. Gabbar feels his interest in their brief scuffle deflate abruptly.
If the boy had been of his own breed, or even a ‘Teke, the bay breeder would have continued. He has been reminded of how far away he is from home, however. He misses it. He misses the heat, the sand, the immensity of the sky and how close he felt to the Gods standing under it. He misses his brothers and yes, the warrior women he had been honored to fight beside who occasionally sought out his company when they were tired of their sisters or longed for someone to stand near who would not —could not— talk if they wished. He misses the war. He misses sparring with his brothers and expending his strength where the mares can see, and he is angry, suddenly, that he has been sent here by a stallion he thought had his best interests at heart.
He should not be surprised or hurt at Rakkas’s decision to send him to these Isles, but Gabbar is not perfect. He flicks his tail and glances at the smirking boy. It is time to return to his Dunes in earnest. There, at least, he will find heat and sand and expansive blue skies. If he is lucky, Valve will be present when he returns. Perhaps the two of them can share stories of the battles they have fought.
“Senin önünde bir göz tutmak,” he says, his deep voice heavy with warning as he steps forward on light hooves. The colt had collided with him earlier, so on one level it is a sincere wish that the yearling watch where he is going in the future. Gabbar’s eyes linger on the boy’s haughty expression as he passes. Arabians enjoy the occasional ambush but are more commonly found attacking their enemies head on, and so on another level the breeder’s words are ominous. As Gabbar walks under the shade of the trees and heads for the beach, he wonders if he will in fact encounter the colt again— he sincerely hopes if they do run into one another again (not literally, although he will not be surprised if that is how things play out), it is after the boy has grown and has gained more experience.
Gabbar has not come to these Islands to fight, but this colt is one of the first to show him any promise of a challenge. He looks forward to testing that in the future.
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