Fell bristles at the sudden presence of Solomon, who places himself uninvited at Kolfinna’s side. The grey mare’s relief at seeing the painted stallion does not register to Bay leader; he is entirely too focused on the King, and the accusatory glare he is sending Fell’s way. The Marwari’s hooked ears pin in growing fury. It is difficult, even with Blue at his side, to not feel ganged up on by intruders.

Blue speaks gently, then, and Fell turns his flaming gaze on the black colt by her side. She is sending the two of them away, he realizes, and for good reason; the tension within the gathering is crackling. His expression softens slightly at the sight of his son and Charmeine, but then it hardens again in renewed anger, and he turns his attention back to the adults. The children have added another layer of ferocity to his temper, and as they extricate themselves from the adults, his grip on himself threatens to slip.

It only grows worse as Kohelet joins, then, her voice steely and cold. Fell dreads this voice, but he does not cower from it, nor does it fuel his anger. His heart thunders in his chest as his painted companion dismisses Blue and the children. He feels guilty that the roan mare has been so abruptly brushed off, but Fell knows that herd hierarchy is not something in which he can involve himself. Fell knows his own place in the Bay; it is not for him to decide anyone else’s.

Still, it is difficult to lose what feels like his only backup — his only voice in the crowd. Kohelet might not stand against him, necessarily, but the support he has become accustomed to her providing is absent, and Fell feels distinctly alone. Charmeine, Khoshekh, Blue — anyone who stood by him have been shoed away, casually dismissed, leaving Fell without any defense or voice except for what crude communication he could offer with his body.

His temper flares again, suddenly, as the overwhelming realization that he is isolated in the spotlight tightens around him. This would have been such an easy fix if only he could fucking speak —

Fell rears, his body lifting just enough for his front hooves to tuck and then slam down with enough force that his teeth click painfully together. shut up shut up shut up. Everybody is expecting him to explain himself but nobody is listening, everybody is looking at him but nobody is bothering to see. Fell swings his head from side to side in response to Kohelet’s question, ears pinned and tail snapping. It is not that he is angry with her for asking, but he feels desperate to get his point across and will emphasize the no as much as he needs to.

Fell’s head snaps up, then, and his eyes, golden and livid, fixate on the splashed Peak mare. Both her and Kohelet, at this point, have asked the silver sister if she wants to stay. Fell lets his glare smolder on Oswin as he slams a hoof into the sand again, carving a small canyon with the motion. Sand and grit fill the black feathers at his heel.

Once he has her attention, Fell forces himself to relax. His eyes soften, and he holds his head low as he approaches Kolfinna. He expects to be leapt upon at any moment, but in his desperation Fell disregards the risk. If he is allowed to approach, the Bay stallion will offer his muzzle to Kolfinna, before dropping his head into a snaking motion. He tosses his muzzle in her direction, as though to drive her toward Oswin, but it is a half-hearted gesture and his lips remain tightly closed. His intent is not to make her feel unwanted, but he needs to get his point across: go home.

If Fell is allowed to relay this message, to speak in the only way he is able to speak, he will retreat to where he stood from the beginning. His ears remain pinned, and his tail continues to lash, but he falls otherwise still. He understands that the whole point of this was to give Kolfinna a choice, but Fell knows the Peak mare does not want to stay. Before all of this, before he had realized his mistake in picking a fight with the Peak, Fell might have believed the silver mare could have warmed to the Bay in time, but even then he would not have held her here.

He would not repeat his mistake with Svenja — the tighter the grip, the harder the pull.

FELL

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