Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
Gabbar thinks he is lucky Indira blew into his home on the winds of a sandstorm. While her sentiments are probably at the opposite end of that spectrum, he knows it would have been another year, probably, before he decided to venture over to the neighboring territory. He is more than content to keep to himself and as far as he knows, the same could be said of whoever rules the other territory on Salem. But it is time and past to get an idea of who he is sharing an island with, and form a friendship if possible or brace himself for enmity. No point in letting the other herd strike first.
He wonders if he will ever stop thinking in terms of war.
He glances at the filly as she answers his question. She is incredibly polite and while he thinks he’s doing a pretty good job so far at talking to a horse his junior in all ways, it still feels a little wrong to stride beside a young mare and have such casual conversation. Soldiers are discouraged from responses that use too many words, and should never ask questions unless they seek to clarify a command. And, among his brothers, these kinds of conversations were lacking. It was mostly bravado and roughhousing, and lots and lots of malicious teasing.
Gabbar opts for the safe route and offers no opinion as he responds, “That may be,” feeling bland as he says it but unable to come up with any response that might be more appropriate. Should he compare her mother’s behavior to the behavior of the Arabian mares? Compliments of any kind were few and far between, there. Should he agree with her mother’s sentiment? Gabbar himself isn’t particularly enraptured at the pattern on her coat, but to voice any sort of opinion about the appearance of a child nowhere near mature seems awfully inappropriate.
He tries not to let his social anxieties show as they cross into flatter land, and the sand under their hooves takes on a texture and depth different from his home. He busies himself with observing the landscape, noting the variations of shrubs and other animal life as a lizard skitters deeper under the shade of a rock. There’s nothing much bigger than pebbles in the Dunes. His eyes slip to his guide and Gabbar notes how her carriage has shifted from uncertain to relaxed and confident. Indira knows exactly where she’s going. He follows her to the edge of what must be the territory’s main oasis and pauses a few steps further away from the water. He’s not certain how anyone will react to see a stranger so close to their primary source of sustenance, much less in the company of a filly who is clearly very dear to her mother, but he’d like to encounter as little conflict as possible on this venture. Gabbar is tired of fighting over what amounts to nothing.
“Well,” he says into the silence. “Here we are. Think they’ve gone looking for you?” Gabbar turns his ears and head toward Indira as he asks this, though most of his attention is on the periphery in case someone has seen them coming and elected to hide rather than face him straight on.
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