Darkness flowed and ebbed inside the stallion as he prowled from the Thicket and into the Forest. Like a wolf on the hunt, he stayed tucked to the shadows as his lupine eyes flicked about his surroundings for his first victim. It was his flared ebony nares that caught the familiar scents of both friend and foe before his ears, buried beneath knotted white mane, heard the battle cries raise up towards the heavens above. Recognizing Macabre’s above all else, Ruger picked up a longer stride of a trot; pushing faster and faster until he was dashing through the brush and brambles.


Drawing to a halt as he burst out onto the battlefield, Ruger took in the scene that played out before him. That of his enemy taking sides with his ally, against his other enemy. But in truth, it was hard to tell who was who in the clash of bodies. Only the red of Macabre’s flesh against the pale gold of Cullen was most apparent. With so many around, Ruger was left with no room to interject. Lashing out a foreleg, the stallion pawed the ground with caged aggression then out a bellow of fury. The demon would not be ignored.