Falls

Vodnik is restless. This is not an unusual state for him. He is never happy, even with Macabre, his heart's desire, his obsession. The red mare is all he sees in the motes that float across his vision. The few other mares that live with him on the Ridge were not his choices. The second he trusted to help protect his shores has abandoned his post. Macabre is nothing but an unwilling captive. Vodnik is lonely. Being a band stallion is not all that he though it would be. He's tempted to return to the bachelor group, where life was an adventure.

Restlessness is not unusual at all, but leaving the Ridge is indeed unusual. Since the land became his Vodnik hasn't left it. He guards it like a junkyard dog, greeting any intruders with violent fanfare. But today, his mood draws him away. Vodnik finds himself grazing the banks of a great pool fed by a roaring waterfall. It drowns out the sounds of the forest around him. The place is unfamiliar but he can tell by the myriad of scents that this place belongs to no one.

Heavy hooves drum on damp ground. Vodnik makes no effort to stifle the noise or make his presence a secret. He is a solid 17.2 hands. He has packed on enough weight to carry him through this winter and beyond, and his coat thicker than a mammoth's. He is still damp from the swim between islands, but he doesn't shiver. Some wonder if he is truly a horse, or a creature from tales told only at twilight.

For now, browses the selection of sparse grass at his feet. His mane falls in tangled masses over his face, but his body language betrays his mood. Vodnik isn't feeling murderous today. There is no tension in his meandering steps, and his heavy tail swings lazily from hip to hip. There are no flies in the shade, but it's a comforting rhythm borne of habit.

It is in this moment that a flash of silver mane catches his eye. Vodnik lifts his head and observes the mare as she drinks. She is robust to say the least. Vodnik is both impressed by her stature and attracted to her figure. Before he makes the decision to approach, his legs are already moving in her direction. He halts a few yards a way and issues a low rumble of a nicker.