The bite of winter gentled slowly as spring crept over the northernmost island. Nights were still bitter, and the other islands were surely warming faster than Tinuvel, but the snows came less and melted a little more each day as the sun stayed in the sky for a few minutes longer.

Fell brushes through the pine boughs that choke the deepest areas of the Bay, their needles damp and cold on his coat. Every few seconds, a heavy drop of meltwater releases from the canopy above and splatters densely on his back, sending a small shock of cold through him. The muscles of his back jump and twitch every time it happens, sending the shattered droplet rolling in small fragments down his sides. Today has been a particularly warm day, and the blanket of snow resting on the tree tops of the Bay is determined to filter through to the ground.

When he finds Mrgy and Maha, his coat is streaked with tiger stripes of moisture. Fell whickers a soft breath to them, favoring his blood-streaked mare with an affectionate nibble at her cheek before turning his attention to the colt. He has grown into his vibrant white markings, no longer appearing too small for their boldness. Fell reaches forward with his bearded muzzle to ruffle his top lip through the boy’s forelock, tugging a few strands playfully.