The palomino mare appraises with stiff mistrust, for which Khoshekh cannot blame her. He picks up that she is surprised by the tone change between battle-frenzied Fell and just-made-it-home Fell, and also perhaps between Fell as a whole and his rather more talkative son. Khoshekh allows her to process this, waiting in patient silence with one hind hoof cocked, until the young mare gives him a hesitant nod.

He breaks into a quiet smile. Kho is close enough to see the beginnings of shivers across her golden coat, and he feels grateful to be able to offer her some small comfort. She waits for him to lead, and he does, turning away from the beach and heading into the trees.

“I don’t think he’ll bother you while you’re here,” he says to her over his shoulder, his lean neck curving slightly so she can see his face while he talks. Khoshekh isn’t often the talkative type, but he feels some kind of way about the silence this mare has been held in on her way here — he feels like it is his responsibility to fill it. “He tends to leave the mares here alone, unless they want him around. It does happen sometimes — shocking, I know.” He punctuates this last bit with a chuckle. They meander through the trees, coming along the foothills of the mountain range that marks one end of the border between Bay and Cove. The path Khoshekh follows leads them up, just a little bit, into the side of one of the foothills where the earth begins to rise out of itself, exposing layers of stone and soil.

Khoshekh leads the mare to a place where the angled cliff side presses into itself like a dimple. The ground where they walk remains level as it bends into the foothill, the walls of the small mountain curving gently up around them. Not quite a cave, just a recess in the stone, open to the sky above but mostly shielded from the elements by the stone walls and the few trees that grow clustered within it. Nestled in the most sheltered part of this depression is a steaming little pool. The entire pocket is several degrees warmer than the outside air, heated by the spring.

“Here we are,” announces Khoshekh, unhelpfully. “You can go in, but even just standing at the edge is nice with the steam.” He turns slightly, standing to the side and perpendicular to the path as though to wave her though. He doubts she will go ahead of him, but doesn’t realize this until after he’s already made the gesture, and feels a bit foolish. “I can leave you alone, if you’d like to relax,” he says, hoping to soothe any offense or anxiety he might have caused by inadvertently trying to usher her into a corner. “If you’ve lived in the Bay long enough, the springs aren’t so special, so you’ll probably have them to yourself. My dad avoids them.” He isn’t sure why Fell steers clear of the springs, and he couldn’t give an explanation if the golden mare asked for one, but he figures it’s worth mentioning.

stallion | black | 16.1hh | Fell x Kohelet