His limbs were heavy with sleep, but Fell was not as bone-tired as he had been the past few days. After his spat with the fiery little lioness in the beach, Fell had crawled into the depths of the Bay to finally get some sleep. He had half-heartedly looked for Kohelet on his way to the springs that warmed a tiny patch of earth even through the winter, but in his exhaustion he had not found her, and had simply passed out alone. His sleep had been blissful and dreamless, a welcome respite from his usual tortured, tragic dreams where he was able to speak.

He awoke shrouded in steam from the springs, groggy and stiff. He hauled himself to his hooves, unsure of how much time had passed since he had been asleep, and feeling guilty for not actually finding Kohelet before passing out. He shook himself vigorously, willing himself to wake up the rest of the way, and immediately set off to find the painted mare.

She was easy and difficult to find in equal measures. He was aware that she had taken up the task of leading the other Bay mares, caring for them in his absence, and for that he was immensely appreciative. If ever he had wished for his voice, it was nothing compared to how badly he wished to just tell her thank you. But he could not, and he could only hope she knew anyway. This arrangement did, however, mean that Kohelet was everywhere around the Bay all the time; he found her scent almost at once, but then spent the better part of an hour following it around, stepping through her carefully made snow paths, tracking her toward the shore.

When he realized the direction he was going, Fell’s heart stuttered. For a second, he wondered if he was following her to the ocean because she had left him, and dread unfurled in his chest. He picked up the pace, trotting through deep snow drifts, snapping frozen twigs against his chest as he abandoned the worn path and took a shortcut to the beach. The sea, glittering blue and calm in the daylight, stretched before him as he pushed through the last of the frozen undergrowth —

And Kohelet was there, but not where he had dreaded. Fell’s head turned sharply toward the two shapes, one unfamiliar, one intimately familiar. Fell processed that a strange mare had made her way inland from the shore, and had not gotten far before his painted companion had greeted her. He turned, relief dissolving into curiosity as he trotted through the wind-blasted snow at the edge of the forest.

He reached Kohelet at her hip, and although he greeted her with a brush of his whiskered muzzle against her two-toned flank, his eyes never left the stranger. He was bristling slightly at the violation of his borders, but not so much as he would have with a male intruder. Fell had gotten into plenty of trouble with other stallions, and although his territorial nature was not entirely discriminatory, it definitely had its preferences. And, he had seen Kohelet greet this stranger with a friendly demeanor as he approached, which meant she felt safe, and that was really all that mattered. Fell swallowed his misgivings and cautiously approached the mahogany stranger, extending his velvet black nose to her in a silent greeting.

FELL

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