merda

Fiero had defiantly been so far out of the loop and hidden away that he didn't realize the trouble that had been brewing right under his nose until it was too late. The peak? He had never been but had heard of the women that lived their lives just as the bachelors did, and at times the two fractions butted heads but Fiero had never expected it to get this bad. What in holy hell did Cullen do to piss off these mares so much?

Pale ears flicker forwards, the silent sounds of the lagoon practically haunting to his ears. Fiero had looked for his brother but the lagoon leader was nowhere to be found and his nephew was terribly crippled at the moment; the dunalino had watched the white colt drag himself back into the lagoon with that peak mare at his side. A small part of Fiero scolded himself for not stepping up to take on the fight himself but he had kept out of all the war affairs since he'd only just returned home; he had no ideals of the situation that made him want to are. So a mare wanted to lead a herd? Oh fucking well. There were worse things out there to worry about. To Fiero a strong mare was more likely to produce strong genes so why not try to swoon said mare instead of fighting to the death?

"stupido brutes," he snarls out, golden eyes glaring out across the vacant jungle for a moment before turning in the direction he had seen that dark colt take off into; hopefully the little brat was headed for the peak himself. He was only a few steps in when he catches the bugling call that came on the winter winds, a sudden sense of dread filing his veins despite Fiero not recognizing who was behind the call. He heaves a heavy sigh, pulling himself away from his journey to go meet the stranger. Yet as his legs carry him toward the direction of the call that feeling of dread is back, climbing up his throat and settling in like a tight noose. What was this feeling? He was distracted, confused by this familiar yet strange feelings, but by the time Fiero finally picks his way through the trees and catches on to the scent wafting at him in waves on the breeze it's too late.

Gold eyes are wide as they stare at the form of his father Rade, who was breathing in the frigid air and taking in the fact that his kingdoms borders were lacking in men. Shit. Having to go to the peak was bad enough, but now dealing with his father who was known for having a bad temper, remembering the time as a small colt of him simply frolicking about and then to have his fathers teeth suddenly snapping him down. Had Sicily not been present he was sure the man would have gobbled him up. Despite the slightly shaky nerves he felt under his skin Fiero squares himself up for what he knows would be coming his way.

"Hello padre," his voice is gentle but loud, calling to the palomino roan with as much confidence as he can muster. Shit was about to go down.