The rush of adrenaline that hammered through the proud young stallion's veins was unlike any that he had ever felt before - not in this sense, void of any bloodlust for that of another. It was purer and not tainted by anger or vengeance. The feeling was foreign but the bay took it in stride, kindling the small flame of thrilled energy until it manifested into a roaring blaze. He reveled in it and cavorted almost like a colt along the wooded path, snorting with his showy strides - lashing out occasionally at invisible enemies with powerful forelimbs and when that did not suit him, he lunged with his razor-sharp aimed forward as his head snaked swiftly to the side in a practiced motion, the blade slashing through the crisp air. He felt stronger and empowered here among the hills of the Dale, a land that had fostered the strength in him and had not judged him for his bloodline. Here he was accepted; here is where he was meant to be since the day that he was born.

So caught up in the overwhelming thrill of being home, Arakh did not once think what his arrival may look like to any bystanders whom did not know him. Did it matter? He was their Prince, the rightful heir, as he father had been advising him as a young colt - they should look up to him the same that they would their King. Yet as the rich mahogany-coated stallion tempered his gait back to a light and purposeful trot further into the trees, he became keenly aware of what he thought felt like eyes upon him. Without being really aware of his actions, Arakh slowed just slightly, chiseled head raised to better search out the source of the sensation. His ember-hued eyes flickered about the trees sharply, nostrils flaring at an assortment of unfamiliar scents, trying to pick out just one from many without knowing what he was searching for.

In the end, he was not able to narrow his focus until finally the young marbled buckskin stepped out from seemingly no where amid the trunks. Snorting in surprise, Arakh pulled himself to an abrupt halt with neck arching proudly. The horse that stood before him was a good deal younger than himself - she still carried that youthful appearance of one just on the cusp of adolescence yet there was a powerful broadness to her figure that seemed all too familiar. Arakh had not grown up among his father's other children much as the residents of Paraiso did, but he had witnessed the strong resemblances that were shared among family members there that held Ichiro's blood. Knowing Rhaego, Arakh did not doubt for an instant that the filly was of some blood relation to himself. A sister perhaps? The curiosity and knowing brightened the mealy bay's gaze upon the filly, his ears pricked and flickering in deep thought as he watched her intuitively. She was tensed, clearly prepared to act however was needed in response to his own actions - but there was a firmness and a confidence there in her posture that alluded she was capable and willing to meet him in a confrontation if it came to that. Arakh was intrigued, and for a short time, he was quiet too observing her as much as she did him in a moment of hushed silence. Dozens of questions rested on his tongue, dying to be asked - did she realize who he was? Who really was she? Where was his father? Did she really think she could take him? Yet Arakh bit them back, a sudden impish glint coming to his eyes. "You had better take me to your King." The smooth baritones had hardly left his mouth when the draft cross advanced forward a step in mock aggression, neck arching so that his horn was angled just so in what could be a threatening position. He did not mean no real harm, but Arakh wished to see the reaction that he could garner from the filly.