Their first meeting had been somewhat of a blur in the mind of the Stallion of the Trees, for his teeth had flashed as obviously as his anger had flared at the idea that someone had the audacity to encroach upon his home and cozy up to his mare. While the dappled mother had been barely a stranger to the red stallion at the time, she had smelt of the earth and the trees in the forest, and that had been enough to remind him that she had belonged there and that it was his right as the man of the house to chase off the unwelcome visitor.

Certainly his behaviour would have been muted had he been brought into the world on normal circumstances, had his father been the sort of fatherly figure he should have been (or more indifferent to the state of the dun and his mother) and had his false father not been so outrightly disgusted at his presence in the sandy cove. Vercingetorix's trust had been tarnished long ago and his ideas of manhood and all those that shared his gender had been shaped by his early life. Perhaps unfortunate, but it was the reality nonetheless.

He was not fond of other men.

The grullo keeps a respectful distance, his eyes carefully dragging upwards to note the subtle backwards flick of Vercingetorix's ears. While the striped chestnut was proud and robust, he did find some pleasure in the healthy amount of respect that he received from the other male. This was more than enough to bring the forest stallion to relax slightly, shifting his weight to allow three feet to firmly rest on the ground while a hind leg loosened it's stiff stance to rest on a tipped hoof.

Once Boomslang has spoken and the air has been cleared about their names and the exact intentions as to why the grullo stallion had been found at the edge of the forest exchanging words with a mare that was all but forbidden to him, Vercingetorix nods slightly in agreement. “My name is Vercingetorix.” He says softly, still holding that subtle air of friendliness in his voice as he continues. “My apologies... but one can never be too careful.” He had heard stories of men that swept into the homes of others, grabbing up women and children as they pleased, and making off before the resident stallion was any the wiser. Maybe he had feared that this strange stallion would sweep away the mare before he had the change to get to know her, and maybe he had already grown protective of his home... but his actions had felt natural nonetheless.