Vodnik may look alone, but he is not. He is kept company by his dreams. His dreams are many, vibrant and loud, and they keep the restless stallion pressing ever onwards. He is a whirlwind on a quest for greatness. Rising from the ashes of his mainland bachelor band, he returns to the islands to make his mark. He wants every horse on these islands to know his name for generations to come. These mountains are just the beginning of his great rule.

The Ridge can be seen for miles around, an ominous silhouette on the horizon, and up close they embody everything Vodnik is and hopes to be. Vodnik expected to have to fight for his own territory but luck was on his side. He took the following few days to explore his new home with his full strength and vigor in tact. He has learned much, but there is still much to be discovered.

This afternoon he takes the time to patrol his western shores, where his mountainous terrain slopes down to rocky shores. Though the sun has yet to set, the hillsides are cast in shadow and dense evergreen growth blots out what remaining light might reach the forest floor. But Vodnik is not a shadow moving through the wood. He makes no effort to hide his movement, with bold steps, and unharnessed breath. His bay coat is well camouflaged but flashes of his white markings are visible through the trees to any animal with their eyes open. This is his home, and he has no reason to be sneaking around.

Vodnik assumes he walks alone today, but it is a brief hint of salt water that first catches his attention. He is much too far inland to smell the sea so strong. At first he assumes a bird must have carried a fish inland, but there is no fishy undertone. Vodnik walks on, suddenly alert, searching, until it finds him again. There is a smell, and it's clearer now. There is saltwater in the wood punctuated by the clear undertone of rival stallion. Vodnik's ears draw back, and are lost under volumes of black mane. He surges to a trot and sets off in search of the source of the smell.

It doesn't take him long to find the other stallion, though the other's inky coat is almost lost to waning light. The large draft stallion announces his arrival with a battle cry and breaks into a high-stepping canter that sends him half-sliding down the slope. If his size isn't enough, the overwhelming flurry of white feather, and the animation of a such large strides is usually enough to intimidate. As he nears, Vondik slows to a walk, and closes the gap between them with ears pinned, and wild eyes rolling. His neck his extended, and teeth bared in a snaking motion often used on mares. He intends to herd this stallion back to the shores from whence he came.