”You are so wise Kvothe,” he responds to her words of wisdom with a compliment. He did think she was smart, more than he was, and her words would help him along the way. Ironclad would need to find his own path that was different than his father’s and his twin brother’s. They may be set to rule together, but how they came into power was sure to be in different ways. There might be some special reason why father didn’t just hand over the Inlet. Ironclad thinks maybe he would need to challenge for it and defeat his father in battle. If that was what father was waiting on, he would need to start preparing. As of right now he saw no way he could defeat his battle seasoned sire.

The way Kvothe treats him and some of the things she says are very similar to what Cherokee used to do to him. The red brindle mare was much older than himself, she even had a daughter born on the Inlet when he met her. It was odd to thing that newborn filly was closer to his age than Cherokee was, in yet they still wanted to be together. Cher was his first mare, but he was too young to breed so she sought another when fall came. She came back pregnant from a stranger that she had chosen, they fought, and she threatened to abandon the foal to which he urged her not to. It was decided that he would take the foal on as his own child, but his trust in Cherokee was gone. She soon left him unexpectedly with her first daughter, but leaving her newborn behind.

He was inclined to breed with Kvothe because of that his past situation. He was inclined to breed with all of the mares he obtained, but Kvothe was the only one of age. Still, he never wanted to force them into it. He saw how Cherokee’s rape had messed her up and he never wanted any of his mares to feel that. He also never wanted to raise another stallion’s child when the mare promised to be his. Growing up was too hard. He sighs as his mind fiddles with many different thoughts because of his new hormones. Ironclad hadn’t even noticed Kvothe had stopped grooming him until he thoughts finally quit.

His neck moves so that he could look at her as her legs start to move as restless as his were. Was she feeling the same way? If his father was correct than this was the perfect time to pop the question. Though he sire never mentioned asking the mare before mounting, but this would be Ironclad’s own way of doing things. He begins to turn face her as she suddenly squeals. His ears flick back in response, shocked as she nips him. He soon realizes this was similar to what Medusa had done back in the meadow when he first met her. This was play. It took him a minute to respond, but he is soon after her.

Eyes watch the bounce of her rump as she runs, the trail of her scent guiding his nose after her. His head lowers in a primitive response as he chases. Running was one of his better traits as his muscles were developed from all the swimming he does back and forth to Atlantis, but Kvothe’s legs were much longer than his. He pushes hard off the hard dirt to catch up, nostrils flaring in response to her smell.