Vodnik's life has been less a horror film and more an action adventure. He has never seen the gruesome aftermath of any of his kills, and yes he has killed, only when fueled by adrenaline and led by the motions of others, but he has killed. His days in seasons past went by in a blur of loud laughter and curses, thrown punches, and bruised egos. He was the darkness. He was a young stallion seeking thrills, and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. There was no time to stop and watch the maggots.

Since laying claim to the Ridge, Vodnik's life has quieted. His eyes are only now starting to open to details less critical to grand adventure. A year ago, he may not have stood in silent observation, noting the state of this mare. Her coat, the color of clay, is streaked with mud and lost pieces of the forest are caught I'm her wild mane. Her unruly appearance only adds to her appeal.

Vodnik is surprised, however, by her body language as he approaches. When he saw her from afar, he imagined fire, not fear, and he can't deny his disappointment in his misinterpretation.

"I see.", he replies. The thought of a neighboring stallion being careless enough to lose his mares in a storm is shocking, but it also opens a window of opportunity for Vodnik. He will consider pursuing other mares from Paradise after he's secured this one.

"It's nice to meet you Macabre. I'm Vodnik." He raises a brow, amused. "There's no apology necessary. I'm actually glad to see you here." He shifts his weight from one hind leg to the other, and the skin on his shoulder trembles at the tickle of a fly. "But I'm afraid you don't live in Paradise anymore. I've sought you out once before, and now that you're here, I won't let you go so easily."