Vodnik is indeed well practiced, and he exudes confidence as he bears down upon the stranger. There is no doubt in his mind that he will win this fight. This is not to say Vodnik is undefeated. No, he has faced his share of defeats, but it has been quite a long time since he's been forced to bend to the will of another, and he can tell by the progress of this battle that his experience will give him the advantage necessary to come out on top. His pursuit of victory is driven also by his sheer determination to keep the land he so newly claimed firmly within his power. Vodnik will not let what is his slip through his grasp so easily.

Vodnik is impressed with the stranger's gall, as the black stallion rears up and fights back. What happens next happens quickly, a sequence of events occurring swiftly through the span of only a moment. Vodnik's teeth sink into the stranger's shoulder, just as the stranger's teeth rip hair and skin from a tender place behind Vodnik's wither, but Vodnik is still moving forward. His momentum does exactly what he intended it to do, and he successfully puts his opponent on his knees.

Vodnik is inclined to finish the job. With ears still pinned under masses of thick, black mane, and his eyes rolling with anger, he presses ever onwards. The black stallion scrambles to his feet, and it is a glimpse of his face that causes Vodnik to hesitate. He would have mowed the stranger down again and crushed him had he not yielded, but defiance is no longer blazing in the stranger's eyes. The stranger fights now, only for survival. Vodnik doesn't stop his approach, but his urgency has fled. Then the stranger takes a limping step. Vodnik is not so cruel as his father was before him. He has the capacity to kill, but also the capacity for compassion. He will not kill another which has yielded, so he stops.

Vodnik stands, eyeing the stranger warily. His sides heave with the efforts of battle and a light sweat has broken out, despite the cool, evening air. Steam rises from his flanks, shimmering faintly in the low light.

There is a moment of silence before the words come tumbling from his mouth. "You have some balls, coming here." The tone is both accusatory and amused. "Good fight." And with those last two words a conclusion is drawn. Vodnik's posture relaxes. He makes no move to drive the other out, nor continue their quarrel. So long as this black stallion can yield and respect Vodnik's authority, he may stay or go.