​Vodnik could understand one's inclination to stay here. The land is a rich food source, with fresh water streams snaking down the mountainside, never dry, even in summer. Shade is plenty and so are sweet, sunny spots to stand on a chill winter's day. Mountain tops may be windy, but the varied terrain between leaves many options for shelter. The weather since his recent arrival has been pleasant. And judging by the flora, mild weather is not unusual here.

Yes, Vodnik got lucky with this one. Who would have thought such a habitable place would be left abandoned? Some stallions can't commit to anything, lover or location.

Today's wanderings take him to a part of the ridge he's visited only once before. He remembers the looming cliff face rising from a small clearing, soil perhaps too shallow and rocky for a trees roots to take hold. The place was empty last he saw it, but today he is taken by surprise.

The lonely meadow is lonely no more. There stands two mares, with two foals at their sides, enjoying the afternoon sun. Vodnik suspected the previous stallion may have left charges behind. He was unsure if the scents that lingered meant that mares could still be here. He's glad to discover his land is not totally devoid of feminine life. He may still challenge for additional companionship, but the need is no longer urgent.

Vodnik makes no secret of his approach. He is too big to hide. His bright bay and white coat, and feathers surging like sea foam with every step catch the eye of anyone nearby. He emerges from the treeline at an easy walk. His posture exudes confidence, but he makes an effort not to be too bold.

He nickers a polite greeting and halts on the fringes of the small group. His ears prick forward and he extends his neck. Nostrils flare, testing curious scents upon the breeze and his tail is tossed carelessly from hip to hip.