Sleepy Fox Hollow zaun

for @Fancy and @Selenia and their foals

colosseum’s breath steamed in the crisp air, his sides heaving as he took a moment to savor the weight of his triumph. the challenger’s retreating form was little more than a shadow now, slinking off to nurse his bruised pride and aching hide. with a final, dismissive snort, colosseum shook his powerful neck, his mane cascading like dark waves, and turned toward the true prize—the mares.

he paused for a moment, lifting his head high, ears swiveling forward to catch their sounds. the scent of them lingered on the breeze, mingled with the earthy musk of the land. they were watching. colosseum let loose a deep, rolling whinny that seemed to carry his dominance across the field, a clarion call that left no room for doubt: he was the victor, the ruler, the protector.

his hooves struck the ground with purpose as he began his approach, his movements deliberate and fluid despite his imposing size. each step spoke of power restrained, a predator among prey but with a gentler intent now that the battlefield was behind him.

colosseum’s nostrils flared as he reached the edge of their gathering, his dark coat glinting under the sun like polished stone. he let out a soft nicker this time, a soothing sound to temper the dominance of his earlier cry. his head dipped slightly, acknowledging their presence.

Fancy was impressed with how quickly the fight was over. Minimal damage done to the winner was the best outcome- had he walked away with a limp, his use as a protector might have been jeopardized. And as petty as it might have been, she did hope that the appaloosa stayed in the area; having a backup might be handy, in case the victor didn't work out. 

She pinned her ears and snaked her head, reminding the others to remain in order as the stallion thundered toward them. They were hers to protect, too- and she greeted the stallion with a customary high-pitched squeal and wheeled to pitch her hind quarters toward him, and struck out with a double kick, sending clods of earth flying past him. With that, she declared their strength, and her position as Lead Mare. 

Just as suddenly, she turned and moved to stand between the stallion and her herdmates, ears pricked and nostrils flared. With an outstretched neck, she brought her muzzle toward his, before she drew her head back and regarded him with a soft snort. Well fought, She murmured with a nod of her head. She motioned for the others to come forward and greet the man, while remaining vigilant lest he try and badger them without reason.

just like that. but selenia did not trust it. she had come to know the selfish ways of stallions, and indicated with pinned ears that only she and fancy should go to meet this man.

he postured, and so did her fierce friend, provoking a delighted toss of selenia's head. carefully she watched the meet between fancy and their new band male, stepping forward when the lead mare suggeted.

her whicker was smooth, her eyes watchful. "you did well," though she veiled her eyes behind the usual veneer of shyness used with stallions.

the foal kicked. protectiveness welled; she switched her flanks with anxious whisking and nickered softly to the others.

colosseum approached the mares with measured caution, his large frame moving deliberately as he slowed his thunderous gait. the lead mare, fancy, met him with the fierce declaration of her strength—a squeal and a powerful double kick that sent clods of earth flying. he stopped short, muscles rippling beneath his dappled coat, head lowering slightly in respect for her show. it was her herd, after all, and he intended to honor her authority.

he returned her outstretched muzzle with his own, meeting her briefly before pulling back to give her space. her soft snort and calm nod were met with a low rumble in his chest, a greeting from deep within. well met, he murmured in his deep, american drawl, voice steady as the earth beneath their hooves. his ears flicked toward her herdmates, noting their caution.

when the tawny mare stepped forward, colosseum greeted her with equal care, sensing her watchful nature. her compliment, though shy, earned a slow nod from him. thank you, he replied, his tone warm but deliberate, aware of her hesitance. his green eyes flicked briefly to her flanks, the subtle motion of the foal within not lost on him.

he lifted his head slightly, his voice carrying an assurance meant for them both. ain’t interested in killin’ your foals, he said plainly, his drawl steady as he met each mare’s gaze in turn. the words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity. he couldn't say the same for the appaloosa.

colosseum took a step back, giving them room, his posture relaxed but still exuding the quiet strength of a protector. he knew trust wouldn’t come easily, but he was in no rush. the herd needed reassurance, not force, and he was willing to prove his worth with patience.

Silverbirch had ever seen between two stallions, she felt riveted, mortified, impressed and frightened all at once. She remained by her mother's side like a shadow, trying not to be too obvious about her nervousness, but all the same she winced and flinched at each strike, and squealed with each blow. For a filly raised the majority of her life without a stallion present, it was so much more violent than anything she'd ever seen amongst horses. Fancy was all mare stare, nips and snorts, but these stallions were genuinely trying to hurt one another!

She remained close to her mother's side when the stud approached, relieved that Fancy moved forward and established some level of respect. Her heart thundered, knowing that her mother and Fancy would give everything to protect her- Winterfox as well, likely- but that this stallion had come close to knocking the daylights out of another stallion, and she didn't want to see the same thing happen to any of the mares, or herself. All seemed fine, once the mares greeted him, until-

"ain’t interested in killin’ your foals,"

A choked squeal came from the filly who promptly disappeared behind her mother's rump. 

Stallions KILLED FOALS?! It didn't matter that this guy said he wouldn't. But would others?

I'm almost a yearling! She piped, her voice trembling, still poorly hidden behind her mother.

While Selenia greeted the stallion, Fancy looked him over, from where she stood, trailing over the joints in each leg, the roundness of his hind quarters, the slope of his shoulder and thickness of his neck and strength of his jaw. These were his weapons, after all- and she wanted to ascertain that they were all in working order in spite of having seen him in action. Stallions always came with scars, pocketed hides from nips, bites, scratches and kicks- marks of battles fought and lessons learned. A stallion with no blemishes was hardly worth anyone's time; she found this one suitably marked. 

Her head jerked up at the filly's piping squeal, and she glanced back in time to see the girl skitter behind her mother. She snorted gently, more amused than anything, before she turned a cooler look back to the stallion. 

Good. It is against Equus' Laws of Prosperity for foals to be killed by a new herd stallion, She informed him, hoping it came more as a reminder, than news. Are you familiar with them? She asked, one ear flicked forward.

fancy looked over the man for evidence of his battling. selenia watched him for any sign of smugness or hidden cruelty. if all went well, he might sire her next foal, but these long months of being without a man had taught selenia she did not need them.

say this one turned on the mares. she would rather take her children back among the bison and remain there than tolerate it again. unfortunately the inconsistency of stallions did not bode well for her trust.

there was relief and suspicion in her, warring sharply at his comment. their greatest fear and the strongest hope of many stallions.

fancy tucked in for a lesson. selenia remained silent as the little one kicked along the inside of one flank, whickering softly to reassure her eldest as well.

her eyes said she would kill the stallion if he broke his word.

colosseum shook his head, mane tumbling over his scarred neck as his ears flicked back toward the filly's squeal and forward again to the mares. his muscles shifted beneath his weathered hide, each movement deliberate, a reminder of the power that coursed through him. he was not here to bow, nor to yield.

the laws? his voice was a low rumble, steady, but not without a note of curiosity. i know the laws of stallions. strength holds the herd, but it’s wisdom that keeps it whole. i don’t kill foals. his gaze lingered on fancy now, sharp and unwavering, as if daring her to question him further. tell me your laws if they're different. i’ll hear them.

he stepped forward a single pace, just enough to make his size felt without invading their space. his eyes, dark and knowing, swept briefly to selenia, catching the tension in her form and the protective stance she held over her daughters. he snorted, a soft exhale that stirred the crisp air around him.

i'm no threat to what’s yours. but if this herd runs under my lead, i’ll need to know the rules you follow. his tail flicked, and his ears pinned back for a moment before swiveling forward again. speak them now, or let’s decide what’s next.

The laws of stallions had likely been written by stallions, for stallions, so Fancy assumed. It was not in a mare’s business to ask them of their laws and stories, and she preferred lore which had been passed down generation to generation by the painted horses who knew the stories best. Typically mares, who took on the role of both Caretaker and Storyteller, so that the young would be cared for and instructed in their lessons and laws as well as being entertained by stories of Equus, and the Army of One Hundred and Five.

Not many stallions are interested in the stories of Equus and the lore of the herd, She commented, her tone pleased. She swished her tail, glad that the stud was willing to learn some of their stories and ways.

The laws of prosperity protect both foals and the herd as a whole. It is forbidden for a stallion to kill a foal- colt or filly- that has been born from another stallion. In allowing the fillies to live, he finds future mothers for his own children. In allowing the colts to live, he ensures that there will be stallions to roam, test themselves, prove their worth and root out the weak when it is their time to claim a herd. 

Colts may be chased off by father or by lead stallion once they have seen their second summer, or allowed to remain and become a sub-stallion should the lead stallion find one that isn’t…Well, a total pain in the ass. She snickered. Young studs could be a handful. 

She drew in a breath. It is also the lead stallions duty to protect the herd, and to kill a foal as quickly and painlessly as possible should the mother be possessed by the soul of Sycha, following birth, and refuse to nurse her child. It is a curse, and the only way to end it is to either find a wetnurse or to kill the foal. 

She had seen it happen. She had seen a mare drop her foal, and then drift away, not even turning back to clean the afterbirth from its pelt. She moved away, eyes filmy, and ate. The foal was forgotten almost immediately- and dispatched mercifully.

Any questions?

Fancy, the sorrel windbag, was full of stories and rules and laws- but for once, Silverbirch was relieved to hear that one of those laws could protect her- so long as the stud was willing to abide by it. 

As Fancy explained, the mottled filly peeked out from behind her mother, to get a better look at the man. Compared to the mares, he was massive- his neck alone was thicker through the middle than she thought she was, and his legs were like tree trunks. Still, there was a mildness about him that proclaimed no devil- and Fancy seemed to have subdued him with her laws. 

She was surprised, though, to hear the name Sycha. It had been mentioned in the stories before- she was the cursed wife of Anor, formerly breed mistress of the Appaloosa line until she betrayed them and nearly cost them the existence of their spotted breed. She had not been told that Sycha could possess a mare, though, and cause her to abandon her child, and she was mortified that Fancy would expect a stallion to murder a child simply because a mare became possessed. 

She kept her mouth shut, and tucked herself away behind her mother again. Some of Fancy’s stories were entertaining, but this one…This one made no sense to her whatsoever.