Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
Spring turns to summer and in the Dunes, the heat is fierce. Gabbar has retreated to the shrub-lined oasis near the heart of his territory. He lies in the shade, neck and legs stretched far to release as much body heat as possible. It helps to extend his limbs like this. If he keeps very still and limits his movements to only the most necessary, he can pretend he is comfortable.
The water in the oasis is tepid and has, over the course of this relentless wave of heat, retreated from the banks of the pool by several inches. The Arabian won’t risk his most valuable resource by reclining within it, soaking the pool with his dusty coat only for most of it to sluice off on the short grass once he emerges. Better to lie here in the relative cool and rise only to rehydrate himself. His bay coat is patched with sweat and every time he opens his eyes, his eyelids feel sticky.
What rest he has achieved while lying in this miserable heat has been restless and unsettling. More than once he has awoken with a start with his muscles clenched as if he is about to spring into action, only to lie back down with a vague sense of unease. The day is too long. He yearns for nightfall, not only for the relief that will follow the setting sun but also because he will be able to get up and move about freely— perhaps drive these demons from his restless head once and for all with a vigorous run over still-warm sand and a quick dunk in the frigid ocean at his borders.
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