Fly had been standing slightly away from the herd when Soljor’s call filled the air, echoing among the trees. Ears twisted towards the sound the mare gave a light huff before she began to make her way towards the stallion. Thick legs and broad chest break through the snow, pushing through the drifts while a few flakes cling to her long winter hair in the process. With her wide structure only the slightly fuller space around her flanks suggest the draft mare to be pregnant, her frame carrying well even in the colds of Tinuvel.




When Fly can see Soljor’s painted form among the trees the bay mare lets out her own call of greeting to let him know she was coming. As she travels and gets closer she realizes he is not alone, already others have come to his call. Magnus stands beside the Lead stallion and a mare that Fly has never seen before. Ears flicking forward in curiosity as she draws nearer, her eyes glance across the woman’s swollen barrel and for a moment she feels heat rise up across her body.




Jealousy had never been Fly’s strong suit and so now as she feels it squirming beneath her skin, she can’t help but narrow her eyes on the stranger as she moves to stand at her stallion’s shoulder. Reaching over to bump him in her customary greeting upon his neck towards his shoulders, the bay mare’s gaze never leaves the mare. “I don’t believe we have met before. My name is Fly.” She says, her voice friendly despite the edge in her eyes.