I’ll keep the door open
in case you come home

The young mare’s fear gave her intoxicating scent an acrid tang. It made her no less desirable to the Bay’s new leader, although he decided he preferred her without the tang of fear. His eyes drew up to her ears, which flickered around her head uncertainly as she reached forward to accept the puff of steam he had sent toward her. He had begun to withdraw, intending to give her space to calm the fear-scent, and had nearly gotten his desires under control when the soft squeal sent him unbidden into a barely-contained frenzy.

Before he could get a hold of himself, he let out a harsh snort, and his head recoiled violently upward of its own accord. Steam rose from his nostrils and from his flanks, and his dark gold eyes rolled at the pretty mare, hazed with animalistic hunger. His lip curled, showing a sliver of teeth, white against the velvet black of his muzzle. His jaws ached to clamp shut around the base of her mane, to drown in the scent of this stranger. He grappled with himself, and by the time his head had come up all the way, he was already wrenching it back down. Frustration burned in his belly, but he knew it wasn’t the mare’s fault, and he struggled to contain his impulses.

The clearing of the girl’s delicate, painted throat helped him regain his senses. He pulled his muzzle back down to his chest, taking a deep breath to settle himself. He looked up at her through thick waves of forelock, his gaze very nearly apologetic. She spoke, and her voice continued to help him gather himself. He focused on it, taking in her nervous chittering with a mixture of curiosity and a strange impatience that he didn’t quite understand. Eventually, the raging storm inside of him quieted enough for him to actually hear what she was saying.

The mare fell silent. She was waiting for an answer from him. The black stallion could speak a few words, but most did not understand the hoarse whisper that was his only means of verbal communication, so he rarely ever bothered. The worst part was really just the first time someone realized he was mute. It was always awkward.

She had asked if he wanted help adjusting to the Bay. He had at least retained that much information over the idling growl of his instincts. Did he want help adjusting? He did not know anybody here, and he had planned to meet the neighboring territory leaders at some point (even if that point happened to be during a scuffle or other butting of heads). He allowed a pause, before offering the young mare a stiff nod in response. Yes, he thought, unable to place his thoughts into words. Please stay. Even if you do nothing but stand there. His eyes crawled hungrily over her painted skin, and he began to realize just how lucky he was that she had offered to stay, even if only for a few moments longer.

With an immense amount of self control, the dark stallion turned, and gestured with his head to follow. He could not say so, but there was a hot spring not far away, which he considered an optimal place to begin settling in.

FELL