As the mare surged forward – all fire and energy – Tarrant rolled his green eyes and stepped back. The ears that had been perked atop his head turned back, though they did not flatten, startled by her burst of aggression. It had been foolish of him not to consider her temperament, but as Tarrant was always more of a welcoming folk it had never once occurred to him that he simply wasn’t what she needed. His back limbs pulled him a step back as she veered close, his front hooves following. Chin lifted, green eyes staring down hard into her face, Tarrant’s heart pumped heavy and fast in his chest. Between them her words fell from her mouth as though they meant to penetrate his skin, to pinch him where her teeth had not.

Between them, silence wavered. The Atlantis air was muggy and thick, the strange birds in the trees gave their unique cries. Somewhere, the ocean crashed on the beach. Life moved on, no matter how these strangers interacted.

Tarrant let loose a low breath, attempting to diffuse the situation – at least, his part in it; pulling himself down from the instinctual reaction to be combative toward her aggressive nature. For her question, he took the time to think. “Clearly, you do not.” Tarrant of old would have laughed, not mockingly, but childishly. He would have stared at her as though her anger was foreign and sought a way to soothe it, always so convinced it was his mission to heal the world of their woes. This Tarrant, this older stallion more troubled by woes, did none of that. No smile cracked his lips; no gentleness seeped into his body. The muscles beneath his coat remained coiled and tense, waiting for her to act bizarrely again in a perhaps more aggressive manner.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, white tail flicking at his hind end as he drew yet another step from her, removing himself as a blockade from her path. The jungle was open to her, the shadows of exploration awaited her, and its loamy turf held its breath as it waited for her hooves to press grooves into it. The stallion of the territory did nothing that most would – he didn’t crowd her, he didn’t try to ease her troubles or poke his business where it didn’t belong. Most herd stallions were greedy souls that gobbled up everything within their boundaries and assumed if it stood there, it belonged to them. That they had every right to know anything that would transpire here.

Not Tarrant. Not anymore.