Falls

fearghas

Fearghas's thoughts are far away as he grazes, busy planning for a future that may never come to pass. He wondered what kind of father he would be, or if he was even ready to be a father. There was no guarantee that Ally would be pregnant… and yet he hoped.

His earliest memories had been of his brothers and sisters. Of the way they played wantonly in the meadow that their father controlled, dancing and gamboling about like wild little heathens. He had been so blissfully unaware of his father's shortcomings at the time that it had never occurred to him to question the reality he lived in. Not the way their mothers did not speak to one another. Nor how they shied away from the advances his father had made. He knew only that his father was strong, and powerful, and had so many babies each year that Fearghas had had more siblings than he'd ever known what to do with.

Even when his father had kicked him out with a vague description of a bachelor herd, somewhere, Fearghas had not seen his ambivalence for the lack of interest that it was. It was not until months in to his time that he had begun to allow himself to be hurt by the separation from his family, and longer still for him to draw the connections between his mother's distaste for his sire to the likelihood that his own father was everything he didn't want to be. Perhaps it was this realization that made him fight so fiercely against Cullen.

Or, maybe it was just because the Boss was an ass.

Fearghas notices the copper-colored mare as she emerges from the water in an absent sort of way, lifting his head just enough to nod in a noncommittal greeting. He'd taken pains to stay away from most mares this season, other than Ally of course. He trusted himself… mostly. While he hadn't had any success the year before in wooing the few mares he'd happened across, he well remembered how overwhelming the scent of a mare could be in the Fall, and he didn't want to become his father.

To his surprise, the delicate mare begins to approach him and he hastens to finish the mouthful of brittle fall grass he'd just taken. He can't help but notice the aura of fear that she wears and his brow creases in awkward concern. He had no idea what to do if she ended up crying.

"Aye lass," he offers with a nod and a smile. "Yer on the Crossin,' near the Falls."

Fearghas studies her for a moment, concern making his nerves ricochet. Lately his track record of keeping anyone safe was at an all-time low, but he couldn't very well turn her away either. She looked as though someone had kicked her when she was already down on her luck. "Is something wrong, miss? Can I help?"

stallion . 3 years . 16.1 hands . smoky black blanket . loveinspired . credit