I’ll keep the door open
in case you come home

The Marwari stallion was acutely aware of how close she was to his hip. They walked in silence, the falling snow dampening the soft sounds of their hooves in the frosted underbrush. It was peaceful, and it helped soothe Fell’s internal conflict. He still felt as though his skin burned beneath the tiny snowflakes, but as they settled on his broad, dark back, they created a comfortable film of cold that helped rid some of the tension that had gripped him when the painted mare squealed.

Ahead of him, thin wisps of steam began to drift through the sap-coated trunks of the Bay’s coniferous forest. One curled ear remained on the girl at his side, while the other flicked forward to catch the very faint sounds of water. The spring was mostly still, and didn’t make much noise other than the gentle lapping of tiny waves against the rocks where it was nestled. He paused at the edge of the water, mist drifting around his feathered legs, and felt the gentle touch of the stranger’s velvet muzzle against his hip.

Fell curled his neck to look at the mare, who gazed back at him expectantly. Fire was spreading across his coat where she had touched him, and he shivered. The warm water lapped patiently below him, forgotten, as he turned to face her.

He wasn’t sure what the touch meant, but he thought perhaps she had figured out he couldn’t speak, and was trying to communicate with him in the only way he might be able to reciprocate. He studied her for a moment, before reaching out to brush one of the white splashes that made its way down her neck from her mane. He felt the same fire as from the first touch creeping up his face, and he pulled back quickly.

I didn’t catch your name, she said, and he realized that she did not yet know of his disability. He twisted his ears around uncertainly, and gave a soft snort. When he did not give her an answer, she instead offered her own name. Kohelet.

He began to worry that she might leave if he did not give her an answer, but there was nothing he could do. His vocal cords were mangled, but he could whisper a few words, though it was rare anybody understood them. Still, it might be worth a try.

”Koh,” he managed, but could not get the rest of the pretty mare’s name to form. And though he tried, he could not form the single syllable of his own name, either. His mother had showed him a way to share his name by scratching a pattern with his teeth on the hide of someone else, but he had never had an interest in trying that before. In any case, his emotions and hormones were finally calming down, and he didn’t want to throw everything out of balance again by touching the very tempting black-and-white coat of Kohelet. Instead, he just looked up at her with an apologetic expression. ”Koh,” he said again. It was the only thing he could say without any difficulty. The desire to brush his whiskered lips against her neck again flared up suddenly, and he had to take a step backward to keep the impulse in check. One hind hoof splashed into the welcoming water of the spring.

He didn’t even notice.

FELL