Vodnik has been waiting as well, waiting all his life for a morsel that could satisfy the hunger inside. Until now Vodnik didn't know what he craved, but as time presses on, he feels the image of Macabre press on his heart. His hunger grows stronger, and finally, he knows what he craves. The prospect of sweet relief and contentment are what bring him here today.

He wants a mare, not just any mare, but a mare worthy of his affections, and thus far, no mare other than Macabre has piqued his interest in any such way. Vodnik can see all the same things stirring inside Macabre as are stirring inside himself. She his brave, and intelligent. She has so much to offer, so much to gain. Together they could own the Lost Islands.

A fleeting thought interrupts his dreams of power. If they had each other, would they need to conquer anything else? Is there a romantic inside Vodnik? Would he ever give up on his ambitions and find happiness in a single mare?

Never.

Vodnik gives a mighty toss of his mane. His other mares may be coins of nickel added to his treasure, and Macabre may be gold, but he has always been the dragon, ever adding to his horde. The trinket that sparkles more than the rest should never stop him from collecting an ever greater treasure.

Hoof beats announce the arrival on Vodnik's opponent. He comes racing from the trees, headed for Vodnik's left flank. Simply put, Vodnik is big, so he may not be a lean or limber as some, but neither is he slow. Years of practice have honed his senses and his reflexes, speeding his reaction times and making the most of what his breeding has given him to work with. He turns to meet his opponent head on, and with all his desire rising in his chest, Vodnik lunges forth.

As Ailill pulls up, Vodnik thrusts his weight into fray, with all intent to knock the wind from him, or even knock him off his feet. Vodnik takes a barrage of teeth and hooves to his chest and neck, but his great strength presses on, attempting to literally flatten the other stallion. He too, throws a few hard bites, aiming for tender places on the smaller stallion's back and ribs. Vodnik may feel this battle tomorrow, but for now, adrenaline numbs any pain.

The younger stallion wastes his breath in battle to order vodnik to leave, and Vodnik feels compelled to answer. He growls into the night. "Not without Macabre."