Meadow

Fell tries not to think too much about setting off for the Crossing. He has healed from the vicious beating he had taken at the hands of Rafe, but he can’t risk overestimating himself on the swim to the Badlands and being caught half-drowned and useless at the striped stallion’s doorstep. At least if he washes up pumped full of seawater on the shores of the Common, there will be little consequence.

At least, that’s the half-baked plan he comes up with after he’s made ninety percent of the swim. In truth, he is stir crazy and desperate. He has fought off the second thief in as many seasons, but there’s no telling what hell Salem will send at him next. He can’t afford to lose anyone else. Even the loss of Maeve stung, though he has no feelings whatsoever for the spiteful red mare. The Bay herd is dwindling, and even Tinuvel’s warmer months harbor dangers better faced in numbers.

Even this is another excuse. Fell could care less about fending off wolves on his own, seeking warmth with one or two of the herd. He cannot fathom the idea of Rafe coming after Maziel or Bluechild next; he would much rather the striped stallion take with him a new acquisition, if he is to take anything at all.

The mare he nearly runs into is a rosy gray, with white splashes through her coat that remind him immediately of Rafe. His ears pin in shock and fury, but of course this is not Rafe. One of his spawn, maybe? She calls out a nervous hello, and Fell realizes he has halted still in the obscurity of the trees. He takes a breath, trying to calm his many unhelpful emotions and thoughts, and steps into her view. His curled ears cup forward, but he is not friendly; he can smell Salem on her, the sun-baked sand and tough grasses and Rafe.

She must be one of his.

He advances, head lowering, ears swiveling back once again to pin against the rough black locks of his mane. If he can bring her back to the Bay, he may be able to negotiate with her for Kohelet.

FELL

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