The stallion paced the borders of the Inlet, nose flared and eyes wide in distress. Warsaw had died, leaving the throne of the Inlet in the capable hands of Ironclad. At first Zharko had been nervous about his position in the herd, but it soon became clear the new ruler would hold true to his father’s promise.

Zharko took his role seriously. He had consistently returned to Claymore, checking to see she was safe in the territory. When her father had died, the mare had been crushed. By her side, Zharko shifted uncertainly. He had never been good with emotions, but he knew how to stand by and hold her while she cried. It seemed as though his fur was forever stained by her tears and he was at a loss of how to dry them. Most of the time Claymore seemed content simply to cry on his shoulder, feel her own emotions and work through them herself.

There were still times he broke away to wander the invisible boundary between the lands. More often than not the scents were stale. Or those of well established neighbors they had more or less come to terms with. Solomon’s herd was bustling and busy. A ping of jealousy flickered in the young man’s heart. He was young, inexperienced, but there was still a sense of perceived pride at being able to hold and protect a large herd with ease. It was the thought of holding such pride for himself, that drove him restlessly to his walks. Today though, he stumbled across a scent that sent his mind reeling. A scent he would know anywhere. His father had come to the island, claiming the Arch. Zharko’s breath hitched, fear lancing through his body. The stallion had not issued a challenge, but of the boy knew anything about Aranck, it was that soon there would be something to worry about.

He dashed from the spot. He knew it was not urgent that Ironclad know of this, but still the Inlet ruler would need to be informed. No, more important was Claymore. If his father knew he was there, and had any inkling he had someone he cared about she would be the first target. Zharko found her quickly and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he saw her grazing peacefully. For possibly the first time, he trotted up to her and immediately ran his nose gently over her neck, assuring himself she was there and unharmed.

Claymore. he breathed against her neck. I have to tell you something. There is a stallion in the Arch. His name is Aranck. He… is my father. Zharko shifted to look her in the eyes so she would know the gravity of the situation. He may come for you. If he does he will try to hurt you. Possibly kill you. The young stallion pressed his face against her. We cannot let him do that.