The cold sank into his bones, but the creature paid little attention to the ache that had spread from his lengthy limbs upward and across his back. There wasn't much to be said about the winter cold. It affected him, but only to the point that he was uncomfortable with the lack of prey to be found. It was for that reason that he hid among the trees, bright blue eyes wanting to glare at the winter landscape and failing to produce even the remotest semblance from their off-putting depths. The hair along his neck were ruffled slightly, trying uselessly to bar out the cold that crept through the onyx tufts. He didn't know why he stood here and yet, nothing within him felt a rushing need to move. His eyes watched the other equine stirring about the winter terrain with a lack of interest that bordered ennui. They meandered without a care in the world and something about that stirred the beast within, irking it with little effort.

Why had he come to these lands? They were not bloodied and war-ravaged like his homeland. These animals wandered with no care and were not plagued with creatures creeping through the brush, intent on killing them or being killed by them. It was a dance of strength, sharpness of mind and a show of power that he craved. The need to spill blood and have it drawn from himself, trophies of war and reminders of the creatures who had failed to best him. There had been no care over life or death. No one worried of such things as seeking out homes and mates, as these simple minded plagues. Most females of his kind would give their lives up for their young and there was no point in caring for something that would not exist past bearing a single young being to replenish their herd. Ostere, being the last of his people, had never given thought to the female gender. What use was there of something he would never need or desire? His mind had a singular focus and it had never included what some had ordained as the gentler sex. Gentler, being a word loosely used to describe something he'd never been moved to consider before. He did not get lonely nor have the cravings or desires of other masculine beasts. He cared not for a pretty face or a soft voice. What use would those be in causing the destruction of this society that baffled his mind by the peaceful mindedness of their existence?

His eyes scanned beyond the trees again and he sought anything to turn him to something interesting. As fate played a fickle game, his oceanic orbs spied something new along the skyline. As the being tilted on glistening golden wings, he watched it lower to the earth. The being stood somewhere between the treeline and the rocking turmoil that was the ocean. The winter air carried a scent to his nostrils, which twitched as they took in the scent. His eyes blazed and somehow suddenly the beast rose up, gnashing fangs and clawing at the frail strings that bound it in the recesses of his mind. His muscles contorted around his bones and something stirred in the pit of his stomach. Something about the scent was unique anything he smelled before. There was suddenly a war waged between his mind and the beast that lingered there. Where the beast begged and thrashed for release, his mind clung to sanity. What use was there in toying with a bird upon the beach when he was certain far better prey would make itself seen soon?

The beast settled back into the recesses, content with his train of thought, though disappointment to linger in the absence of the aggression it had fueled in Ostere. He moved with a purpose that drove his muscles to bend and swell along his bones, drawing his massive form farther from the beach and into the Lagoon. The smells tantalized his senses and he couldn't help the anticipation that built within at the slightest chance that he might find a place in which the beast inside could thrive. It strummed at the strings of his control always, reminding him that any momentary lapse would be an escapade that left destruction in the wake of the ebony beasts form. He settled on a spot where a more dominant scent had captured his black nostrils, swirling down his throat like the heady scent of roses on the vine. There were two types of creatures that claimed land. Those that wanted to protect and those that wanted to dominate. The lilt that fell upon darkened lips perhaps belied that he was far more curious as to which of those types this dominant stallion would be.