The young golden stallion stepped quietly through his home. The erratic playful nature that consumed him for most of his life had calmed, though the fire still burned in his soul. So young he had already endured so much. A lost ‘love’, a broken promise, and a dance that had never been stepped. Macabre had brought to him the warning that Vodnik would soon be knocking on the doors of Paradise. Ailill could feel the threat of his neighbor ever looking. Fear lanced through his veins, but so did the determination the show he was more than what the world had come to believe of him. He was not the colt who frollicked through the waters and fields. He was a man who would make his mother and his sister proud. He would move to the music of wonder and life, but he would also answer the drums of war.

He stepped through the trees and slowly came to a stop at the sight of the young mare he had met as a filly. Velvet ears laced back into his pale locks, the side of his face smarting in the memory of the kick she had expertly delivered. Stealing himself, he realized he was more hesitant to approach this fiery young female than he was to rise to the challenge of a giant angry stallion. A deep breath and he stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully to the mare.Greetings. He called softly, careful to keep his distance from her sharp hooves. I hope you had a pleasant year among the trees? She, like many of the residents of Paradise, seemed to be ghosts.