​There are benefits to being as big as Vodnik. Standing an impressive 17.2 hands and weighing in at just shy of a ton, he will never be agile, nor will he ever be able to boast an aptitude for stealth, but he is not often messed with. Most other stallions give him a wide berth, not wanting to be at the receiving end of one of his powerful kicks. Predators too, have not threatened him since maturity. He is just too big. There is always much easier prey to pick. Vodnik is well aware of the big cats that call this place home. He could smell them the moment he arrived, but he hasn't given them a second thought. They do not concern him, not now, not when he has no harem nor foals of his own to protect, and not when he is the imposing creature that he is. A pack of wolves may be able to take him down, if there are enough of them, but once again, there is easier prey to pick. So long as Vodnik remains fit and healthy, he will be an unlikely target.

No, he does not want to hide. He will not meld into shadow and fade into history. He will make his presence known wherever he goes. These are his mountains, and all of the The Lost Islands will know it in due time. Even predators will know. It's the reputation he intends to build that will keep his legacy safe, not a secret hiding place.

Vodnik departs the hillside copse feeling the effects of adrenaline fading into the night. The skirmish with the black stallion has drawn a sheen of sweat to his coat, but despite the cool, autumn air, Vodnik does not shiver. Steam rises from his back like he is smoldering ash, and his nostrils flare for his efforts. His original intent was to drive the stallion out, but his mind was soon changed. Reminded of a friend he once had back on the mainland, Vodnik engaged the rival in a healthy spar, then decided to invite him to stay. Vodnik expects the other stallion to remain subordinate to himself, but admires his gall. He could use some help patrolling a territory as vast as this one, and only a stallion with some fight in him and a will of his own would be eligible for the job.

Despite the positive outcome of this last intrusion, Vodnik is concerned that someone else unwelcome might breech his shores, so he sets out for pebble-strewn beaches. It is a short journey and when he emerges from the cover of trees, he can see the silhouette of a dark mare stark against the pale, moonlit earth.

Vodnik is tired, so his steps are slow and soft. For once, he is not a maelstrom blowing in, and calling attention to himself. If she is awake, she should hear him, but if she is asleep, she might not. Not wanting to wake her if she is asleep, Vodnik settles several yards away. He faces the sea, and not the mare, though one curious ear is turned in her direction. He lowers his head, lower lip drooping. As the minutes tick by he rests one hind leg, and begins to doze off.