Common

Fell prowled the shore of the Common like a hungry predator. His day was beginning to reflect the Fall season as a whole: fun, but largely unproductive. The black Marwari had come to the Bay as a very green stallion, but now that he was getting a feel for some authority, his confidence was beginning to grow. He was becoming ambitious. His skin was beginning to itch for his first real fight, but Fell was no fool — he wasn’t ready to win against anyone. He was prepared to lose, however, and that was almost as good, because nothing toughened up a young stallion like getting his ass kicked.

But there was no one here to fight, and nothing to fight over, anyway. Not surprising; Fall had concluded, and all the participants of the hormonally-charged season had slinked back home to prepare for the onslaught of winter. Nothing Fell could do would lessen the weight of Tinuvel winter, however, so here he was, hopelessly looking for something to do.

That something arrived shortly after the sky had begun to bleed into twilight, and the shadows, already long from evening, began to blend into one another. As Fell watched the darkening treeline, a sleek shadow detached itself from the rest and moved into the last patches of dying golden sunlight. Fell’s hooked ears came together in a dark halo, and his golden eyes peered hungrily through the thick strands of his forelock. He had his Marwari mother’s curled ears and ebony fur, but he had inherited most everything else from his father: the thick mane and tail, feathered hooves, and muscular build.

And the wolf, he reminded himself, every time the thought came to mind. Or something just as bad, anyway.

The mare on the hill in the dying daylight dipped her head to graze, and Fell moved forward without a second thought. He stalked up the slope with canine focus, his head low, curved ears still pressed forward. He knew the consequences of invading a mare’s space, but he did it anyway as he approached, not so much offering his muzzle in greeting as thrusting the gesture at her with no opportunity for refusal except in the form of physical retaliation. He was not so clueless as to believe she would welcome this, but he was driven by the familiar demanding urgency of the animal within him, and the consequences of his invasion were heavily outweighed by the prize to be gained.

Had it still been Fall, the Marwari stallion might have immediately attempted to drive her back into the ocean. He would not have risked the obsidian mare escaping him, or being snatched up by someone else. But this was nearly winter, and there was no one else here. Satisfied with his claim, and only mildly suspicious of what could be lurking in the shadows and awaiting the chance to steal his prize, Fell stepped back, and waited to see if she would lash out at him.

FELL

stallion. 16hh. black. marwari x. Rougaru x visurix.