The night is a particularly dark one, the moon almost fully hidden by thick clouds heavy with spring rain. He wanders through the eerily tall trees which blanket what little light there is, guided mainly by his sense of smell and, most of all, his sense of adventure. At a couple of weeks old, the colt's natural curiosity is more intense than ever, and exploring a creepy forest in the dead of night is the height of excitement for him. His ears pivot at each noise, each bullet-like snap of a twig beneath his hooves, each chirp of a cricket hidden within the undergrowth. He blends in well here; his jet black fur matches the shadows beneath the trees and his white markings could easily be dapples from the weak moonlight speckling through the foliage. Only his crimson eyes stand out stark against the monochrome hues of the forest, great bloodied gems that seem to glow in the darkness.

He has no destination in mind - he simply wants to explore, to create a mental map of this ethereal place and file it away in his sharp mind for future use. Compared to the rolling fields up in the mountains where he was born and raised, this forest is practically a playground. A myriad of scents assault his sensitive nose and he flares his delicate nostrils to inhale every last one of them. There have been other horses here - and he can detect an aroma that will one day set his loins to burning, the odour of a mare in heat, although he doesn't yet appreciate the finer tones of such a scent - but it isn't those smells he is interested in. No, he can get horse-scents anywhere he wants, but here, here he can detect the unique trails left by rabbits, rats, birds, dragons, all sorts of wildlife that doesn't seem to occur as regularly up in the mountains. It is these scent trails he follows beneath the cover of darkness, simply to compile a mental encyclopedia of what-smell-means-what-animal. He is still a boy, an infant in nature's terms, and still discovering everything there is to discover in this complex world. These associations are things that will aid him in surviving and growing, ensuring he knows the difference between the harmless tang of a rabbit and the dangerous, predatory reek of a jaguar.

Ears flailing, nostrils gaping, he moves at a high-legged trot in pursuit of a deer's musky aroma, although he doesn't yet know what a deer looks like and is determined to correct that little oversight. Finally the forest seems to disappear in front of him and he is free in a clearing containing an ancient fir and a pond, beneath the surface of which glimmers ruby red rocks distorted by the water and the reflection of the few stars in the heavens. The young beast's eyes widen in shocked curiosity, itching to move closer and admire the crimson rocks but resisting due to the impressive stag that stands with his head dipped, drinking the clear liquid. Clearly this is the deer smell that Volterra has been following, and he is quite a magnificent specimen - all muscular neck and imposing antlers, silhouetted impressively against the dark forest. Deer is added to the youth's memory, and he stands just in front of a large tree to admire the stag in awestruck silence. ""