When Winny rushed past him back out into the aisleway, he whirled around and followed, stopping just outside of the stall that they had just occupied. "Stupid girl!" he bellowed. "You think I care if you die? If it wasn't for the rule, you would already be dead." Ivarr stalked down the aisle toward her. "And it is a very, very bad idea to deceive a fae." His kind hated to be lied to, tricked, stolen from, and other such things. They could be tricksters themselves, but they never lied to achieve anything. Humans did that, mostly. Humans lied and deceived and had been the first monstrous thing that he had seen when one took a knife to one of the Kelpies in his herd in another time, another age. Cut off the tail and killed it. They were used to being the perpetrators of violence, tearing the humans apart. It was the first time he had failed a Kelpie under his protection, and he didn't know why he was thinking about that now. Maybe it was all her talk about terror and violence. Or worse, she was actually making him feel inadequate. It made him angrier still to have that memory rise to the surface at such an inconvenient time.
Ivarr's footsteps turned to hoofbeats as he launched himself into a canter and skidded to a halt by the door of the stables, half rearing, then planting all four feet firmly on the ground. He snaked his neck around to look at her before loosing a stallion scream that sounded utterly unnatural, something from his true spirit, the form that he had yet to show her and the only one that wasn't a glamour.
The horses that were under his care were restless in their stalls, and his body language changed to guarded concern, head lifting and ears pricking forward. Leaving Winny to her own devices, he went about doing what he had come to do, looking in on every horse, communicating in nudges, low nickers, and the occasional squeal.