Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
It does not surprise Gabbar when his companion speaks of her people as a proud folk, though he is mystified when she describes their loyalty for one another. It is this he responds to as he steps forward again, leading with his left socked foot. “My people are also proud, but in a way that divides instead of unites. The loyalty you speak of exists only on the battlefield among my kin.” He glances at Sekhmet as he turns his ears back in embarrassment. “There is much squabbling and shifting of social politics. An individual’s reputation means everything.”
It is a dynamic he considers as they trek further into the Dunes. As Iftikhar has not claimed him as her son, his words and actions cannot reflect poorly upon the red mare should he behave in an unsavory manner. If she chose to acknowledge their blood relations in the future, however, everything in his past could tarnish her image if, again, he had at any point behaved unsuitably. Thus Gabbar’s actions have been fully proper up to his arrival on these Islands. He isn’t particularly interested in being acknowledged by Iftikhar and, as such, being brought into the harsh scrutiny of the herd, but it seemed unwise to behave in a manner that might negatively affect the chances of such a possibility. Rakkas had often told him to “Never be your own obstacle,” something Gabbar still considers wise. He draws in a deep breath and notes the fresh, green scent that draws them closer to the oasis.
Now? He looks again to the mare at his shoulder and marvels at his ability to walk beside such an innately graceful horse and carry an intelligent conversation— something the mares back home had never given any breeder much credit for. His tread slows for one step, the tip of one hoof dragging suddenly through the sand, but resumes his regular gait as if there had been no outward sign of his internal debate. “There is an immense disparity between genders among my people,” he says softly, though his deep voice carries easily across the small space between them. “One that does not favor stallions. This?” He thrusts his dished nose forward. “In my homeland, this cannot belong to a stallion.”
The ‘Tekes display more camaraderie and equality than his own people do. He shakes out his mane and dispels the guilt that threatened to settle over him. Valve treats him like an individual, not a breeder, and he feels free to be his own horse in these lands. If returning to the desert means sacrificing this— he won’t go.
As they top another dune the oasis comes into view below, a verdant patch of greenery tucked in the valley between a few smaller dunes. Tall trees offer abundant shade and are sustained by the wide, shallow pool sitting at the center. “I could not help but call this land mine after running off the previous inhabitants.” he says, leaning his weight on his hindquarters as he descends, eager for a drink. “I’m sure you can see why.”
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