Rhaego was not a stallion that would turn down an opportunity to further his genes, not in the least bit; especially when the other party was willing... or even partially willing. It was not unusual at all for him to succumb to such carnal and primal instincts - he was a beast proud of his masculinity and embraced that side of himself fully with no apologies, whether that be procreating or beefing it out with someone who claimed that they could take what was his. It's just who he was. And so at the Lake, when he'd encountered a beautiful off-white mare marked with spots of brown and black, he'd been more than willing to cover her. Perhaps she'd even make up for the shortcoming of the small handful of his mares that either had not cycled this season or had foolishly avoided him.

He'd not caught the speckled mare's name, nor had he really cared to at the time. It had not mattered as much as the length of time he'd lingered away from the Dale. Without any trusted comrades there to aid in watching the borders, he felt bound to his mountain home, stubbornly reluctant to give any stallion (or mare) a chance to catch him with his back turned. It'd turned out to be for good reason that he rushed back, for he had been greeted with a challenge for the Dale itself from some winged stallion with a broken wing. It was a battle easily enough won - only with a collection of new superficial scrapes, cuts, and bruises scattered across his muscular frame to show for the encounter... nothing in comparison to the seasons-old dark scars still on his left rear flank and on his upper neck. Yet as the excitement of that evening's battle waned and he was sure the challenger had retreated, Rhaego caught his thoughts drifting with interest back to the Lake just that same day. He contemplated returning to the common grounds to seek her out and bring her to the Dale - but was unwilling to leave the Dale unguarded again so soon. He'd find her again in due time... she wouldn't get too far and even if she did, Rhaego was confident that any rut-driven stallion posed no threat to her; he'd made sure of that when he was astride her.

The soft feminine call came to him as he was grazing in the strong sunlight along one of the many ridges that made up the Dale's landscape. He lifted his large head sharply, dark mahogany eyes and short russet ears training forward, seeking out the caller. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but only just. A deep and gravelly neigh answered the mare Still tired and sore from his battle with the winged stallion, Rhaego opted for a leisurely walk in the direction of the call, limping slightly from the old injury to his flank which had gotten stressed from all the activity the past day. It was a short few minutes before he arrived within sight of her, cresting a small rise the sloped gradually towards the mountain cliffs. As his spied her uniquely marked pelt, a crooked grin of recognition flashed across his ashy-gray lips and pale-pointed muzzle as he sauntered across the remaining distance between them. He rumbled appreciatively at the surprise of seeing her here so soon, the arrogant amusement in his eyes and in the grin saying all that needed to be said in his approach. Surely for her to seek him out like this, it could only mean one thing - last night must have left quite an impression on her.