Fell did not consider Drogon’s intrusion a betrayal — they had not been incredibly close as brothers, and at the end of the day, Fell could not necessarily blame the other stallion for attempting to steal a mare, as he had tried the same countless times — but that did not stop it from acting as gasoline to Fell’s temper. The black stallion stalked deeper in the Bay, fuming over the whole interaction, knowing he could not be placated by any possible outcome to such a scenario. It did not matter if Drogon had gotten away with Svenja, or if she had stayed with Fell in the Bay; the Marwari stallion would have raged all the same.

As he stalked into the foothills, a familiar scent crept through the heavy curtain of anger that limited his senses. He gave pause, momentarily lifting out of his vengeful haze, shock mingling with the entirely new anger he associated with that particular scent. It was the Ridge mare, the one who had cost him his prize. What was she doing here?

Curiosity and more than a little alarm drove Fell deeper into the foothills, and eventually up the side of the lone mountain. He followed her trail with determination, picking his way up the precarious path she had apparently chosen, stopping more than once when the stones began to slide loosely beneath his hooves. Fell was not the most graceful of creatures, and his impatience was costing him a great deal of progress as he had to keep adjusting. But eventually, once he figured out how to slow down, he began to cover ground a little faster.

When the stone fell from above him, Fell’s head shot up to catch a glimpse of the white mare disappearing from the edge of a perch a bit higher up the trail. Invigorated, and adapting to this uncertain and risky terrain, Fell pushed forward. He climbed until he reached the ledge where he had seen her, but there he stopped, out of breath. Fell was built to run for miles at a time without rest, but he was certainly not used to climbing.

In any case, there was nowhere else for her to go. There was still mountain above them, but they were close to the peak, and it was getting to be too steep for Fell to continue even if he had the energy to do so. Instead of pressing on, he stamped a feathered fore-hoof against the stone on which he stood, the hard cracking sound carrying far on the empty air. She had to know he was here; she might as well come out and tell him what the hell she was doing in his territory.

FELL

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