The stallion had exhausted himself in the swim. Still strewn out from his lack of sleep and the nightmares that would find him the moment that he allowed himself to sleep, he found the island shortly after his detour to tinuvel and his act of collecting a certain pale skinned mare and the painted creature that seemed to want to struggle against his claiming.

Stinking of the salt and the sea, he had moved inland quickly, following the painted grullo quietly and watching as she settled in amongst the trees, perhaps resolved to finding a way to enjoy herself in this land as she was going to stay here for a time. Vercingetorix found himself feeling a great sense of pride in both his ability to drive the silver grullo back to the forest without too much of a struggle, and picking up the pearl on the way. Tired and feeling the itch of the cold air seeping into his skin that reminded him that winter was coming, he stood next to the painted mare, pondering whether he could reach over and offer to untangle the mess in her mane with his teeth, but instead there is a soft sound behind him and he peers over his and the woman's backs to see where Fleete had collapse.

She too appeared to have wasted her energy on the swim, feeble and lean as she was.

When she speaks, her voice is light and mysterious, and the red dun wonders if she is speaking for her own benefit or for the painted mares as well, as neither were aware of his name, knowing only that he was the red stallion of this land. Breathing softly, the stallion twists his body so he is standing between the two of them, one ear turned towards the paint and the other pushed forwards in the direction of the woman he had plucked from the cove. “Vercingetorix.” He answers her softly, eyes turning towards the grullo for a moment before speaking again. “My name is Vercingetorix.”

His statement is open-ended, silently inviting the others to introduce themselves and perhaps they would become two of a kind before they integrated themselves into the group that waited just beyond a small crest in the forest. Where the suspicious grey with her two babes waited in the trees, and the others seemed to gravitate towards her, slowly growing large with their own children. Licking his lips, the stallion shifts his weight in preparation for words from either of the two mares.