The little bump on his hip does not go unnoticed, and Fell’s skin jumps there with the contact. Their game seems to have burned down to a calmer, more familiar version. He prances about a little bit as though he might still run off, but he lets the blue mare catch up after a few moments, and they walk in companionable silence.

He has nowhere specific in mind to lead her, so he takes her along the well-worn path through the heart of the Bay. It follows the river upstream, cutting through the coniferous forest and emerging again into the setting sunlight where the trees fall away to a meadow. This is a favored spot for the Bay herd, providing reliable grazing even in the winter (though you had to dig for it). The river does not freeze at this point where it skirts around the edge of the meadow; it moves too quickly and turbulently over the stony bed, and even in deep winter it only forms a crust along the banks. It’s shallow enough to cross at a walk, and the forest extends into darkness on the other side of it.

Fell gives a proud little crow hop as the landscape sweeps open in front of him, fighting the urge to run just for the joy of running. The sun is going down, and the grass is still patched with snow which could be dangerous to hit in the dark. He looks to the painted mare for her preference; they can make their way to the rest of the herd if she wishes, or bed down here, or continue with some game or other into the night.

FELL

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