He never understood what drew Fell to such a claustrophobic land; each time he came, if it was the cold making him uncomfortable, it was how closely the trees pressed together here, their boughs shutting out the light overhead and leaving everything in perpetual twilight. He felt naked without the sky above him, like a part of him was missing somehow, and could feel the familiar tug toward home as if it were a living thing inside of his chest.

He ignored it for now. The beast always called him back home to where his family resided and would continue calling him there even after he'd concluded his mischief here on Tinuvel.

The mare he found did not seem pleased to see him, and though he watched in real time as her ears folded back and she pinned him with a glare he knew indicated he was unwelcome, he did not slow. In fact, his pace shifted from that of a hunter to something lighter, practically dancing as he bowed his thick neck into an arch and sent the wet tendrils of his mane cascading in new patterns. He nickered from deep in his chest, the sound a vibration that traveled across the scant space separating them and considered his options.

The first option - the one every ounce of hormone in his body was screaming for - was to try and drive this pretty bald-faced mare from the Bay to the Badlands, come hell or high water. She could hate him on the way there, and he was certain he could change her opinion by the time they actually reached land. Or, he had been, at least, until the last time he'd won a mare. Starlight's refusal to even acknowledge him had shaken him more deeply than he wanted to admit, which brought him to his next option: Fell.

Raegar had come here not entirely with the intent of taking from the black stallion, although that was certainly the excuse he planned to use. Rather, the overo had come here in search of a return to normalcy. The feeling of hooves and teeth against flesh, both his own and Fell's. The knowing that in the exchange of blows, they would find familiarity. Both stallions knew the rules of this land - not the social ones, the common conventions, the pretty surface - but the rules that ran through the stones and sky and waters. They played by rules that had been in place longer than the herds that roamed the islands, and for that, kept true to who they were.

It was this that stopped his head from dropping and ears from pinning, that slowed his feet and allowed an easy grin to curve on his pale lips.

"What's the sour face for?" His voice was light and teasing as he slid to a halt just a few feet away from her, mischief sparkling in his dark brown eyes. For all his bluster and shaky impulse control, he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable or threatened now that he had made his decision and so he did not encroach too far but offered his pink muzzle toward hers, hoping to encourage even this most chaste of touches.

young stallion - mutt - seal bay overo - 15.1h - rafe x velahrn