As the two stallions tear apart, Vodnik knows the battle is won. The red stallion may be bruised and bleeding, but Ailill fairs no better. The colt has done a lot of growing up in recent months. Vodnik's persistence in his quest for Macabre is undoubtedly a contributing factor. It was a close fight, and as mentioned once before, Vodnik will leave this place with an ounce more respect for the younger stallion, but this doesn't mean he'll let it show.

Ailill urges Vodnik follow him, and Vodnik snorts under his breath. It's a rude gesture, but after winning their most recent battle, his inflated ego doesn't take well to being told what to do. He does, however, obey. Vodnik keeps pace with the other stallion. His eyes and ears remain alert for the first sign of Macabre.

He is kept waiting too long.

Vodnik can't help but think Ailill must be an idiot, cutting a winding path around his own territory before finding Macabre on the beach, not far from where they fought. His patience has been tried too long. The snake in the pit of his stomach stirs, and he must stop himself from lashing out when Ailill takes a bold step forward and offers his muzzle to a mare that is no longer his.

Vodnik trembles with rage, but he finds one last thread of self control, and remains rooted to the spot, several yards away from the pair. The draft's rumbling voice breaks free without restraint though. Hushed tones are tense with emotion. "Macabre. You reside in the Ridge now. Say your goodbyes, but don't keep me waiting long."

The prospects of fighting Ailill were nothing short of thrilling. Vodnik welcomes a good fight and he's pleased his opponent stepped up his game and gave him a real challenge. It felt good. He would welcome any battleborne injury, or even a courageous loss to the quest that lies before him now. His real fear is Macabre, and the daunting task of wooing her. This is not the type of battle a warrior like Vodnik is prepared to fight, and yet the outcome of this is most important.