Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
Valve’s return fills Gabbar with trepidation.
He is glad to see the black mare’s silhouette atop a nearby dune, and his ears perk to catch the sound of her cry, but he remains rooted where he stands on the side of a Dune with each of his socked legs bent to compensate for the tilt of the surface beneath his solid hooves. He has been given an order by a mare, the lead mare of his herd, and even though they are miles from home, the Arabian has found it difficult to justify defying his upbringing as he has considered this situation for the past few days.
You will not speak with her again unless I am present, his mother had said, in reference to the Akhal-Teke. Iftikhar’s biggest fault, Gabbar thinks now, well aware of how dangerous such an opinion is for a mere breeder to have, is her inability to see the value in others. It is because of this thought, among others, that Gabbar has come to his own conclusions about how he will interact with the slender black warrior. In the three days or so that have passed since Iftikhar’s visit he has made peace with the fact that there will be a painful, possibly humiliating, confrontation with the red mare when she returns and discovers Valve is still free to call the Dunes home.
With no more hesitation, Gabbar turns and slides down the side of the dune he had begun to climb when Valve arrived, and he makes his way at a reasonable pace over to the pile of sand she tops, her sleek coat gleaming like a beacon at the low summit. Still, the sand is loose underfoot and it takes effort to wade across it, and by the time Gabbar crests the top of Valve’s perch he is slightly winded, and his bay coat darkened with patches of sweat. However, his head and tail are raised high as he moves to stand near the Akhal-Teke, and there is still energy in his steps. Nothing in his body language suggests he has had words with Iftikhar and is openly disobeying her now: Gabbar does not dwell on his decision, but he will accept the consequences of it if and when they come, as he has been taught.
“Were you successful?” he asks, turning his dished head to regard his svelte companion with bright eyes.
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