The Bay’s border consists, as the name would suggest, of mostly shoreline. Much of Fell’s time is spent at the edge of the trees, looking out over the cold, stony sand that separates the pine forest from the sea. Ever since the rapidfire attempts to take Kohelet over the past few seasons, Fell’s attention is far more focused on the neighborless edge of the Bay. The territories surrounding him share so much blood with his own herd that he tends not to worry about trouble from those directions.

When the attacks from Salem suddenly cease, Fell is suspicious. Every day finds him spending more hours along the bleak shoreline, eyes cast out over the gray waves expectantly. When finally he hears the call of a stranger, Fell takes off at once.

It isn’t a challenge, though, and as he spots the roan stallion in the distance, he slows his pace ever so slightly. The male is not aggressively postured, and not alone, either.

Fell drops to a suspicious trot as he approaches, ears swiveled back but not yet flattened into the coarse waves of his mane. The stallion is nobody he recognizes, though he thinks perhaps there is some resemblance to Azalaïs, and beside him is a very young filly. Far too young to be on its own, Fell thinks, and he narrows his eyes at it. Is this some kind of trick?

He halts a few strides away, one ear ticking forward as he does so. His eyes linger apprehensively for a moment on the young male’s face before sliding over to the child. He gestures sharply toward the girl with a jerk of his head, before fixing the young stallion with a glare through slitted eyelids. It’s as clear a question as he is capable of asking: Why?

FELL

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