Vondik thought he made a clear exit, but he is wrong. The nimble mare comes after him and as she pulls up beside him, he remains focused forward. He is, for now, expressionless. It's not until she opens her mouth that one ear swivels towards her, and his eyes flash a first revelation of his true feelings right now.

He is irritated, but that's the extent of it. Vodnik doesn't feel any fit of rage, or surge of extreme emotion, just a mild irritation. This mare is the fly that can't be swatted away, or that itch that he can't quite reach. Oh, how he wishes she would leave him alone. He doesn't have the patience to talk to mares who insult him for no good reason.

His language is the same everyone else speaks on these islands. Vodnik was raised on the main land, not far from the first in this island chain. This was the only language spoken there as well. If this mare has a problem with his native tongue, then she best get used to it, or move elsewhere, because it's all she'll be hearing on these islands.

"I am going to sleep. You may return to wherever the native tongue meets your standards." There is a clear dismissal in his voice, as if his body language was not enough.

Soon the path they followed opens up onto a mountainside meadow. As Vodnik ascends up the grassy incline before them, his strength becomes apparent. He climbs the steep pitch with no obvious effort, and he's not even a little bit winded when he reaches the top of the hill. Navigable slope is cut by a rocky cliff face. Vodnik settles into the shadows at the base of the cliff. Here, he is sheltered from the winds that sweep across the mountain range from the west, and from the light of the moon which may bother his eyes as he drifts into slumber.

The bay stallion stands with his left shoulder against the wall. He cocks one hind hoof and lowers his head. He presses his eyes closed, and hopes the mare will be gone when he opens them again.