Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
Gabbar does not take her silence personally. When they leave Luthien it is in silence, and when they arrive on Salem still not a word has been exchanged. For him, it is easy: he has been raised not to address a mare until addressed himself, and even then to wait for an invitation to speak. He settles into this role easily and strides out of the water unhurried. When he turns his head to view the pale mare, he sees she has not stopped even to catch her breath from the swim and instead is marching up the side of a dune. He knows it will be foolish to badger her with his company right now. Her reaction to Shamwari’s decision was painful to see. Gabbar knows what it is like to have no power over one’s own life, and it still tastes bitter as a memory.
He also knows it will be beyond foolish to let her get too far out of his awareness. So, as she disappears over the first tall mound of sand, Gabbar follows the uneven line of her hoofprints to track her at a distance they will both be comfortable with. He has no doubt of Shamwari’s sincerity should any harm befall Evaline, and he’s not entirely sure himself what kind of experience the mare has with this specific climate. It is dangerous to wander across the sands with no clue, so he paces her.
It is a long night spent following tracks he knows will lead him to an unhappy mare.
Gabbar is tired by the time day comes, and still he follows. Sometimes he catches sight of her up ahead and lags deliberately so she will still have the semblance of privacy while coming to terms with her son’s decision, but by the time noon arrives he is hot and thirsty and ready for a nap. He can only imagine how Evaline is feeling. The bay soldier lifts his hooves and breaks into a quick trot, carrying his lithe body over the loose sands of his home with ease. Before long he spots her pale gold coat standing out against the rich reds, and extends his gait to a canter to reach her side more quickly.
He’s familiar with the layout of his territory and knows they aren’t terribly far from the oasis, although it may seem a trek to her by the time they actually arrive at the Dunes’s primary sanctuary. “Evaline,” he rumbles as he nears, slowing in a wide half-circle to avoid kicking sand her way. “Water is this way.” Gabbar pivots and trots a few steps in the direction of the oasis, then slows and looks over his shoulder to see if she is following.
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