The figure on the beach is immediately recognizable, nevermind how many trees stand between it and Fell. At least, Fell is certain he recognizes Azalais on the bleak and pebbled shores of the Bay.

The black stallion moves toward the spotted figure without much conviction, but with a little more energy in his step than he had over the past few days since Kohelet’s departure. The fire had gone out of him when she left, leaving him in a haze of smoke and tar. It may not be a permanent change, but for once, he is numb, and Fell cannot complain about that.

The trees begin to part before him, as does the curtain of smoke in his mind, and he sees that it is not Azalais on the shore. The beast of the Bay continues, realization dawning on him — Isengrim. His son. He stands over a shallow pool on the beach for a moment before moving on, turning toward the trees. Fell halts, observing, following the young stallion with his eyes as he navigates into the woods. When he can no longer see the spotted colt, Fell follows.

He comes across the boy not long after. He makes no attempt to quiet his hoofbeats as they crunch over autumn leaves and pine needles. He circles until he faces Isengrim, golden eyes meeting the boy’s ghostly ones with muted curiosity, and he tilts his head inquisitively. Fell has not been a very involved father except with the children he shares with Kohelet, and the cynical part of him expects Isengrim to be here with a grievance. He feels guilty for so many things, all of the time, but in this moment he mostly feels regret for sending Azalais and their young son back to the Dunes.

His heart gives a little stutter, but Fell knows his issues are not for his children to share, and he quiets the useless feelings of shame and longing. He extends his muzzle toward Isengrim with a silent whicker, breathing in the scents he’s carried with him as well as the scent of him, wanting more but afraid to reach for it.

FELL

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