Gabbar follows Valve out of the Dunes and into the ocean, through the blue-green saltwater and finally onto the shore of the Crossing. She sheds water like silk disdained, strides up the beach like the sand doesn’t roll of shift under her hooves— in her element, always. The bay soldier follows a few steps behind and allows her to lead. He has never set hoof inside the Lagoon, though as they stop just above the tideline it appears he will not enter the bachelor territory today, either. His dark ears twitch at Valve’s language (uncouth, and therefore unusual) but he keeps his mouth shut and scans the thick underbrush shadowing the interior of the territory. It is silly to wish to see Evaline, but he looks for her golden coat among the shadows anyway.

A flash of cream catches his eyes but it’s only the painted bachelor who first assaulted Valve back on Salem. Gabbar moves forward to stand on Valve’s left, all too aware of the bachelor’s acute attention for his dark partner, and keeps watch for the buckskin who he anticipates is not far behind his compatriot. The banter the bachelor lobs at Valve is heavy with slang Gabbar finds unfamiliar, but the tone and implications are all too clear: here is the jibe, the sharp-edged flattery carried by a blade so sharp one would think the cut is a kiss. He does not even glance at Valve. She is more than capable of parrying anything this bastard throws at her, and he will leave her to it.

He takes advantage of the bachelor’s inattention to take stock of the height and build of the other stallion. Gabbar finds him neither superior nor inferior to his adversaries from the desert. On the one hand, this horse is well-fed and unencumbered by the stress of fighting for his life on a near daily basis. He is healthy. His head is clear, and his ambitions? Gabbar doubts they have anything to do with the will of the gods. His goals appear to be more... physical. The bay holds back a snort and cocks a hind hoof, an unconscious response to the desire to kick out and hit flesh even though no one stands behind him. The other hand is what gives Gabbar confidence: he has been raised to fight, lived a war. He does not balk at conflict. It is as natural to him as eating or sleeping or drinking— all of which he could use more of, and soon. As soon as they are finished here, he will rejuvenate himself.

But, he is not so foolish or proud to believe this bachelor or any of his comrades will back down if it comes to blows. They have taken Evaline and expect to keep her. In his experience, horses who have something to lose fight with the most ferocity. He shifts his weight, plants his hooves, prepared to move with Valve should she charge forward, telling himself all the while he’s not about to relish this fight.