His ear still aches and itches, but most of the time Fell doesn’t think much about it. No unfrozen pools are still enough in the Bay to gaze at his reflection, and the black stallion has never been the type to try anyway.

He can see it in his shadow, sometimes, on accident. On clear evenings when he patrols the beach, he may look down at the setting sunlight on the sand, casting such a harsh silhouette of him against the grayish grit. One hooked ear, solitary. The shadow is stretched from the angle of the sun, distorted, grotesque — his lonely ear like a singular bull’s horn sticking laughably from the top of his crown.

Fell doesn’t think much of it. He can’t actually see it; he can only see the silly shadow, and the faces of his mares as some try not to stare at the scabbed and scarred stump, and others gaze brazenly at it with unapologetic curiosity. He absently kicks at the sand beneath his shadow, using the tip of one forehoof to flick a clump of the coarse, sodden stuff a few feet ahead of him. It lands on the shadow’s head, and his ear becomes a misshapen lump. He almost chuckles, it’s so stupid, but Fell cannot remember the last time he laughed, and he isn’t about to start now.

Raising his eyes, the scarred and shaggy black stallion resumes his patrol with adequate attention. The setting sun is warmer than it has been, but the Bay will freeze over again tonight, and many more nights after until the stubborn Tinuvel winter lets go.

FELL

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