It wasn’t long before Dante spotted another horse headed towards him in the distance. Judging by the way the stranger confidently and expertly navigated the land, not to mention his presence alone, Dante guessed that this was the stallion who had claimed this territory for himself.

The stranger did not seem to be aggressive, however. Dante tensed slightly, prepared to run if the stallion tried to chase him off – he was not looking for a fight. But, instead, the man paused before him and began to talk – calmly and eloquently, as though they had previously been interrupted mid-conversation and he was merely continuing.

Dante quite liked that manner.

The stallion had striking green eyes, a rare sight on the islands, that contrasted strongly with his dark pelt. The charcoal colour of his skin reminded Dante of his sister. Most interestingly, however, was his missing ear – Dante longed to ask him how it had been torn off, but decided it was probably not a first conversation question.

Dante had one functioning eye, this man one ear – they just about made a full face between them.

“That’s right,” Dante replied, quite glad of the stallion’s apparent knowledge of Atlantis.

That was all it took to draw him in.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, frowning as the stallion told him about the storm that had apparently whisked away one of his mares. “Atlantis’ storms can be brutal.”

The stallion gestured towards his home then, and began to retreat into the Ridge, inviting Dante to follow. He went along gladly, walking by the stranger’s side.

“I’m Dante,” he said, introducing himself. “Sorry to have wandered into your place here, I haven’t been back to Atlantis in a long time.”

DANTE
a man possessed of some radical notions