Gabbar

---

stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6

---

The Arabian soldier stays put at the warning snort, and when no violence follows he relaxes the tension rippling through his haunches. The tone of this encounter seems to have shifted as suddenly as the wind is wont to do, and he listens with one ear cocked toward the male as the other stallion speaks, though his eyes are still on the pale mare at the back.

It takes an immense amount of concentration for Gabbar to shift his attention away from her and to the stallion as the other male smoothly takes control of the conversation. He realizes with some mental vertigo that he has, once again, assumed some aspects of this culture are the same as his— and it appears that the mare, though confident and clearly capable of holding her own ground against a potential threat, is not the horse in charge. It is so foreign to him that he cannot help but struggle with it. Even though he holds a territory of his own (something he has come to terms with about himself) it still confounds him that mares appear to be powerless in this place.

Gabbar’s ears pin briefly at the stallion’s initial retort, but he cannot nurse any illwill about this outcome against anyone but himself. Did not his own culture follow the same concept? If a horse was harried from their home and allowed to live, they belonged to their captors— as a prisoner. Nereid, then, was not his, according to the customs of these lands.

How generous of you, Gabbar thinks following the other stallion’s offer, and knows the acidity in his mental voice is just rage at himself diverted to a more convenient target. This is no time to allow his fury to rise. He can rebuke himself to his lousy heart’s content back at the Dunes, but not now. Not here.

His eyes flick to the pale mare, curious if he is perhaps being duped into believing the stallion is in charge and this mare, in fact, has already orchestrated such an offer before they happened to meet. It would not surprise him if this were the case. His gaze returns to the other stallion and he snaps his flagged tail against his haunches. “And if I am to accept your offer— I am to relinquish all rights to Nereid, imagined or otherwise, and to acknowledge this territory is her home?” It perturbs him to think of what opinion she might have of him, should he go through with this, potentially never to see one another again.

“And if I accept your offer,” he says again, voice and head lowering humbly, “would I be permitted to see her, under whatever supervision you deem fit, and explain myself to her before I go?”