Fear lanced through Ailill at the call that echoed through Paradise. He had been waiting for Vodnik’s arrival. Waiting was all he could have done. Tarrant, his grandsire, had said to watch over him and train him. The man was now nowhere to be seen, fading back into the foliage like a specter. The desert breed was foul tempered and her daughter too young to be of much help. Their presence fueled him however. He could not truly stand against the beast that was Vodnik, but sure as the day was bright, the golden child was going to try. And a child he was.

Though he had grown much in his time as leader of Paradise, many of the chiseled lines Vodnik displayed were still coated with baby-fat on Ailill’s body. Full grown, his youth was still evident. The muscle and sinew moved under his coat, used to carrying him through his lands and through the trails, not fighting a battle against beasts of brawn. Everything down to their bloodlines screamed their differences. Still, the young stallion raced through the forests of his home, answering the call of the challenge with his own, one thing only on his mind.

Macabre.

She had unknowingly brought this fate down upon him, and still he would stand faithfully by her side. He had given her a vow to be there for her, to be the best he could for her. It was time for him to uphold his promise, to be the man his sister and his mother could be proud of. This was his moment of truth and he was going to face is like the Lord he had been born to be.

The starry night gleamed on his flesh as he raced through the trees of the forests. In answer to Vodnik’s echoing calls, his approach was silent save for the whipping movements through the trees. Upon the sands his racing hooves thumped against the grains until his pale form bared down upon the much bigger man. The only thing Ailill could have going for him was surprise and speed.

Pounding into the wave soaked sands of the beach he barreled into the draft, heavy sprays of wet sediment flying through the air around them. Ears pinned to his skull and blue eyes wide with rage and terror, Ailill pulled his body up and flashed out with his hooves, his hoarse scream quiet, for he did not want to wake the herd and alert them to his peril. Determined, but hopeless, he snapped his hooves at Vodnik’s neck, while trying to bite at his face, able to reach it only when he reared. With as much speed as he could muster, he simply tried to overwhelm the hunking stallion with a barrage and furious attacks.

Leave! He snarled into the air, his voice as cold as the wind. Let us sleep easy tonight! Even as his hooves continued to flash out before him he felt sure sooner rather than later his rotting corpse would be adding to the smell of the fish around them.