Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
Gabbar has not heard the name Yusuf before, but he knows he will listen for it wherever he goes. It is the least he can do to repay Valve for her assistance in battle. He dips his black muzzle toward the sand in silent affirmation as she indicates the sands in the distance. It is flatter there, and he suspects it is not a part of his territory. “I see,” he says. It is tempting to offer to go with her but he has his own responsibilities. “These lands are always open to you, Valve. Consider them partly yours— you did win them alongside me, after all.” He does not ask if she plans to come back, as he had initially planned. It is easier to simply offer her hospitality, and to let her do with it what she will. Gabbar will not impose his own wishes upon her.
He flicks his black tail and lets his eyes drift shut for a moment as he revels in the heat of the sun upon his bay back. It is good to stand in sand again. He keeps his eyes closed as he speaks again, and his deep voice lingers in the natural silence of the territory: “Do you know of an Akhal-Teke named Maslakhat?” he asks. “I was told El Halin has been in his company before. It would be good to speak with him, I think, if I am unsuccessful in my search for the High Seer.” He tips one delicate, black-tipped ear toward Valve before he opens his eyes to meet hers. It may be a long shot, but so far Gabbar has been lucky in each one he’s taken. According to the pattern of his good fortune since arriving on these Isles, Valve’s response should be favorable unless the Gods have seen fit to end their serendipitous involvement in his life.
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