How long had it been since traveling through the tightly packed area of trees, wth all its twists and turns that seemed to go on forever and the ever present scent of pure male testosterone in the air?

The lone dunalino stallion pondered the question to himself, eyes of golden hue taking in the barren trees of the clearing he found himself in and the leaves that lay scattered along the ground. He was way past the boundary lines, using old knowledge of his birthplace to slip in undetected. Fiero could not scent his father anywhere, his scent long gone from this place which unnerved the pale male; Who could have dethroned his sire or who thought they could take his place here? Fiero felt like a failure having abandonded his post so long ago, but there was still time to mend what had been broken. Lifting his head Fiero lets out a deep barritone of a sound, allowing it to echo around the empty clearing and beyond to finally announce to the other men that he was here.

Fiero the italian bastard was here to play the game.