Fell is deep within the Bay borders when the strange stallion’s scent hits him with shocking potency. He expects to encounter intruding scents close to the territory’s edges, if at all; few are so bold as to wander in very far. Any curiosity he might have harbored about a newcomer (he’d had many peaceful ones recently, surprisingly) is extinguished by his rage at the audacity of a stranger to make himself at home in his Bay.

From his place on the fringes of the thawing spring meadow, Fell surges into motion. He is downwind of the stranger, and his scent comes to the black stallion from somewhere close to the river, far too close to the herd. Fell himself is not very far from where his mares gather with their weanlings and newborns, and he moves straight for them instead of tracking the intruder. He is not willing to give the unknown stallion a chance at what belongs to him, especially in the spring; many of his mares are full to bursting with foal if they have not given birth already.

He does not linger long with the herd. They have not yet met danger, or even the scent of it. Fell changes course now to track the intruding stallion. His hooves move less swiftly without anxiety for his children, but fall more heavily now with anger unhindered by fear. He crashes through the pines and ferns, bruising many needles and sweet-smelling leaves as he goes, careless of the clawing branches that grab at him. He sees the stallion ahead, a black slinking shape that appears suddenly through the trees, and he digs his hooves in for maximum impact. His broad chest swells with anticipation, ears pinning tightly against his neck, and he launches himself with open jaws at the intruder. He aims for face, withers, neck, anything he can grab and throttle between his teeth.

FELL

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