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Worn, wet hooves set foot upon the shoreline of the island and out from the sea, the inky stallion pulled himself… He was like a creature emerging from the darkened depths. Chilly saltwater rushed urgently down his form, which he barely seems to acknowledge. Further inland he strides, until he comes to a watering hole that was fed by a roaring torrent of fresh water. Without a second thought, the stallion trudged in, until he was knee-deep, and he drank with fervor and need. Although the water was cold, compared to the sea, it was warm; and it kicked him in the gut. But there would be time for such nonsense later.

Although getting wetter was the furthest from his desires, he did not hesitate to drop into the pool of fresh water for a roll.. Pulling the fibers of seawater from his dark coat. Once all was said and done, the stallion would have driven further inland, where it was warmer and less windswept and chilled. There, he slept and shivered until morning. His golden hues were like little embers against the dark features of his face, sorrel tassels clinging to his neck in desperation.

He suffered, and instead of attempting to alleviate himself from the brutality of the elements as any normal horse might, he chose to endure it. What didn’t kill him -- made him stronger. There was no point in resisting, for when it was his time -- and trust, it would come -- there would be nothing he could do to avoid the day his mortality caught up to him.

On the outside, the stallion was calm and could be described as ‘almost somber’. But within? He absolutely seethed. Hatred roiled just skin deep. He flicked off the instinct to react with the toss of his head, and the flick of his tail, before pressing forward.

The stallion followed his senses until he came to a great mountain full of treacherous slopes and devastating rocky peaks. He drank in the smell that clings to the breeze..

Mares.

He eyed the mountain with quiet scrutiny; why would a large collective of mares be found here, of all places? Exhaling a hot breath --- though not quite snorting -- the stallion would trudge forward, scaling the steep rocky path. What he doesn’t know is that he would not be welcomed here, but he is a stranger to these lands. And there is no better way to learn than to throw himself into the fray.