The grulla mare squeals and strikes at him with one foreleg, scraping the edge of Fell’s knee with the sharp corner of her hoof. The black stallion huffs as his leg heats with pain, and he backs up another step, taking the weight off his now-aching forelimb. His anger leaps for a moment, but he doesn’t lash out in retaliation, for fear of planting within her the desire to escape. Instead, he bows his head and inspects the swelling scrape, licking the blood that glistens slightly in the black fur — not even enough to drip down.

When he lifts his head toward her again, the grulla mare has settled a bit, and now only eyes him in irritation. She speaks to him with dry sarcasm, which, Fell admits to himself, is far better than fear or sorrow. He laughs a single, silent huff of a laugh.

The salt-roughened mare falls silent, watching him expectantly, and Fell approaches her again. Now that she is calm after her initial outburst, he wonders if she will allow him closer. He hesitates to crowd her, but outstretches his neck and blows a little cloud of steam from his flared nostrils. He knows this is the awkward time when one discovers that he cannot speak, but over the few years he’s held a herd, he has mostly gotten over the insecurities of this moment.

FELL

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