Common

Fell has little enough reason to be leaving his herd at the edge of spring time, yet he washes ashore on the Crossing all the same. There are no newborns just yet, and between foaling season and Fall, this might be his last chance to visit the Common. The Bay can always use more warm bodies to smooth the passage of Tinuvel’s bitter winter.

Spring has yet to thaw the brittle earth of his home, but on the Crossing the change of seasons is already evident. Rain falls, cold and lazy, on the grey sands of the shore and patters soothingly into the leaves a short distance away. Fell does not quite make it into the shelter of the woods, however; his eye is drawn to a shape in the sand not far from where he landed. His ears cup forward, alert, their curled ends meeting in a dark halo above his stoic face. Rain and seawater have plastered his mane and forelock to him, and he shakes himself free of their clinging tendrils before turning to further inspect the object in the sand.

The rain and ocean have all but washed away the thing’s scent, but as Fell marches closer, he can see that it is a horse. They are small, golden in color, with ink-dark hair pooling around them in the wet sand. The black stallion halts a few strides away, certain that the sodden creature is too small to be a male, but ready to abandon the wretch to sea and storm if that is the case. He lets out a nicker, the barest gravel of voice he can summon, and the creature lifts its head.

He gets the faintest fragrance of a mare, cementing his resolve to get her off the beach and back home. He has more or less outgrown the most abrasive of his old habits, but Fell will never be a soft stallion. He closes the distance between them, ignoring the mare’s question — not like he could answer anyway — and circles her, head bowed low, muzzle hovering close enough for his whiskers to brush against her pale nostrils. He exhales for her, and then circles again, propping his dark nose against her withers where they press into the sand and giving them a shove. It is a firm gesture, but not an aggressive one, and its message is clear: time to get up. If she begins to rise, he will brace against her, and help her to her feet.

FELL

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