The white-slashed mare seemed to be expecting Fell as he came to a halt in the little clearing beneath the pines. She said something else in an unfamiliar language—sounded like the same language she had spoken just before, but Fell could not be sure. This time it was a question, but even if the black stallion had understood it, he could not respond.

She did not appear to be afraid of him, and didn’t seem to care that he had left her question floating like a little bit of steam in the early morning air. Despite his warning, she approached him further, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to bristle, but he let her. Her posture was not aggressive, and after all his warning had been vague. Perhaps she was heeding it in her own way. He allowed her to close the distance between them, and he considered her for a moment, ears flicking black and forth. Then he stretched his velvet black muzzle to meet hers, and blew gentle golden steam over her whiskered nose. From her, he smelled traces of the Cove on top of her own unique scent. His ears finally settled forward, reassured that she was not here to cause trouble. His suspicion was replaced with curiosity.

Are you the one, then? she asked, and Fell cocked his head to one side. Of course, this language he did comprehend, but it didn’t actually help him understand her any better. The one? Which one?

Having established that there was no threat, Fell should have turned to retreat back to the Bay herd, but he did not. At least, not yet. He had stopped thinking about chasing her off, but he wasn’t yet ready to leave her to her own devices in his territory. She smelled of the Cove, and so he hesitated to try and negotiate with her about staying, but he did not suspect she actually lived in the Cove. Still, his bargain with Solomon had not been forgotten: he had to stay out of the Tinuvel King’s way if he wanted his peace and quiet here.

But… it was hard to ignore the pull of his instincts. He may have been quieted by the wolves, and by the births of his children, but Fell’s demons were never silent. The blue mare’s scent made him hungry. He had a better chance of resisting now than he ever would in the Fall, but that wasn’t saying much. Fell was nothing if not a slave to his vices.

The black stallion closed the distance between them again, muscular neck arched and nostrils flared. He aimed to plant a nip on her hindquarters—not hard—just to see what she would do. He did not immediately dance away from her, but he was prepared for any punishing hooves or teeth she sent flying his way. After all, the rougher the game, the better the prize.

FELL

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