Marceline’s spotted blue child is quiet during their swim to Tinuvel, but this comes as no surprise to Fell. It’s not as if he can prompt her to speak by trying to make conversation, or ask her any questions; and there is a chance she already knows he is mute. He has fought Marceline before, and it would surprise him if the Red Queen did not warn her child about the silent pest from the North.

It is only when they step away from the waves and onto the pebbled beach does the roan mare turn to spit at him harshly. ”You must not be very smart if you think my mother is going to let you get away with this,” she says with a sneer, and Fell briefly struggles to contain his temper. He laughs, silently, in outrage; of course he’s not going to ‘get away with it.’

That was the point.

Before he can do something stupid, a smudge of black-and-white movement announces the arrival of Úna, tumbling too quickly toward him to make out any of the details of her. Fell braces himself, but the filly slows before deliberately smashing her face into his chest. He glares at Azalaïs as she turns to leave, shelving his anger somewhat successfully in the presence of his young daughter.

He wants so badly to ask Úna about her Bluebird, or what else she was up to while he was gone, but the words will never leave him. It is the same ache he has felt for all his children as they grow, but he hides it, and his lack of verbal investment never seems to bother them. Úna especially seems not to care in the slightest that he can’t respond to her chatter. He reaches down and ruffles her fuzzy mane with his muzzle, and gives one ear a playful tug.

Azalaïs is beginning to stalk away when Úna reprimands her, and Fell struggles to decide whether to laugh or scold the young girl. Fell himself had not intended to correct the spotted mare, no matter how badly she pissed him off; he has learned that it tends to pay off when he just leaves his mares alone. They seem far less prickly in Kohelet’s presence than his own, and sometimes they even come to him willingly if he gives them space for long enough.

As Úna glares daggers at the retreating Azalaïs, Fell keeps himself free of any sign of amusement, lest he anger the spotted mare further; but he also does not scold his daughter. Instead, he ushers the painted filly along toward the trees, in a different direction than Marceline’s daughter; if Azalaïs wants to confront him, she is welcome to follow.

FELL

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