So much as of late had been boiling through the islands. Much of which he started, but still, there was turmoil. At some point, the chocolate colored stallion knew that the proverbial pot would boil over. He could feel the tension in the air, feel it as thickly as the fog that seemed to shroud his island as of late. When the scent of Warsaw hit his beach, he had been prepared thrilled even. Of his allies, he knew that Warsaw would visit only if the time was near. That same desire coursed through his own veins.

Golden eyes gleam behind green as the wolf follows at the casual pace set by the gray steed. There is no need for casual conversation, small talk liked by others. That was not these allies. Instead they moved in silence, dark wraiths drifting down the twisting pathways that led through Paradise. Rougaru moved confidently through the jungle trees, ducking here and there as a low hanging branch crossed their path. He had come to know the island like the back of his hand inside and out. It was his blood and sweat that bore constant reminders of the empire he was determined to build. Warsaw had called his friends to him, no doubt the discussion was soon to lead to action. The wolf was ready. Saliva wet its jaws as a toothy grin peeled its gray muzzle back. Rougaru too smiled that sadistic smile as Warsaw halts their little hunting party and sends up the call for Bjorn. Multifaceted eyes gaze to the stallion who stood opposite of Warsaw. Cullen. Though he had not met him in the flesh, there were many tales told of the bachelor stallion and his band of merry men that he led through the lagoons on the main island. He gives the stallion a nod of acknowledgement.

Time to play boys.