Fell is awoken abruptly by an unfamiliar voice. It is close, far too close, and accompanied by the scent of another male. The black stallion’s eyes snap open to see the taller bay as he bobs closer, and asks Fell something.

The Marwari’s instinctual response is violence, but he holds back; something feels off. His ears slick back against the rough waves of his mane, and his body grows taught with aggression, but he holds still, watching. There is something… wrong about this stallion, he thinks, though he can’t place a finger on exactly what. Physically, he can’t find anything out of place as he glares at the outsider, but something about his voice makes the hackles rise. What had he asked?

Hi, oh hi, dear oh my, are you alive?

The bay stallion’s eyes are wide, but his gaze on Fell doesn’t feel wholly present. Fell gazes back, his own eyes smoldering with territorial tension, conflicting with curiosity and something uncomfortably close to fear. The sun remains warm on his back, the meadow otherwise beautiful and untainted.

Is he dreaming?

Does it matter?

Through his confusion, Fell recognizes that slight twinge of fear, and it infuriates him. He is not allowed to be afraid. He is already defective as it is; to be a mute brute is acceptable, but a mute coward is abhorrent.

A ragged squeal tears from his throat, bringing with it the faint metallic tang of blood, and he lurches forward, one front hoof lashing out in warning. He doesn’t barrel into the stranger like he would have even a year ago, but he is prepared to if the outsider does not retreat. Gone are his misgivings, gone is the discomfort at the stranger’s riddle, replaced by savagery and a blindfold of red fury.

FELL

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