"Hm," Işık replies, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with the painted stallion's observation, his expression still pleasantly neutral through the veil hanging between them. Obstacles are as integral to existence as the weather: one cannot be alive without encountering them. It is a basic lesson. Still, he holds his tongue as the other continues, and all around them the snow falls in increasingly smaller flakes. It builds on his back and the top of his head, insulating his dark, lean body with its weight. He listens.

He does not like what he hears.

The idea of conditional bachelorhood is absurd: the very nature of bachelors is without restraint, and the dismissive way the tobiano remarks upon the way things used to be here reveals much about the rot working its way through the belly of this particular herd. His ears flick briefly to the sides, and when a natural pause falls between them he is tempted to clarify, to remind this stallion that a bachelor is beholden to no one, nor their opinions. To live life constantly defending against the disapproval of others by modifying your behavior for their benefit— he's done it, mastered the art of walking on eggshells to avoid invoking either the wrath or, woe is they, discomfort of others, and it left him feeling so unsteady on his own four feet he could be toppled constantly. Işık is long past the days of treading carefully. He will not be swayed from his course by anyone, least of all those who look upon him unfavorably. Under such a gaze, he thrives.

So should all independent thinkers.

When the threat comes in the rosy pre-dawn like a knife slicing through lace, Işık lifts his head to bare his throat to that point. It seems his mere appearance has set the painted male so on edge that he feels compelled to level that blade at a stranger, a newcomer seeking harbor among like fellows. In the seasons to come, Işık will learn that the egos of the horses on these islands are laughably fragile, that even one curious poke with a stick will rouse their pride and fear to such anxious heights that they must flex and flaunt, puffing themselves up like peacocks as if that's all it takes to send a challenger running for the hills, tail tucked. He does not doubt this tobiano means every word, but he is in no way cowed.

Işıksız opens his hooded eyes wide, ears slicking back against his poll, civil veneer vanished.

"Don't lay your decisions at my door. Bachelors don't fetter themselves with families; if you want to play at band stallion, you've chosen the wrong place. I'll not be held accountable for your lack of judgment. Get out of my way," he snaps, lunging at Rehoboam with grasping teeth. He means to make the other man bleed.