This beast, titan, monster, moved like a predator, stalking with calculated, slow, soundless steps. He was a fault, a mistake, a thing that should not be. At his sides erupted two midnight wings, large, pristine, so muscular, so prominent. He did not belong in the Aurora Basin, but there he was, a feathered warrior in a land of horns. He prowled the thin, snow-covered, paths of the threshold, searching for members for this cult-like herd. His life had turned into something he never expected, a herd stallion which hadn't gotten a good fuck no since Rexanna and her corruptness. Horny and on-duty is usually never a good combination, but since he couldn't solve the latter problem, he focused on work, not play. But it wouldn't hurt to run into an attractive puta.

As he prowled onwards, the trees opened, a small clearing appearing. The sun sent his bright rays upon Caleb's ink hide as he stepped from the shadows, a cool mask firmly in place, frigid and detached, it's how the predator likes it. When his molten silver gaze rests upon a stag, his horned skull rises upwards and feathered tail begins lashing around, slapping the snowy ground and throwing flurries at even the slightest contact of black feather on the ivory powder. The beast walks head-on at the stranger, stopping only mere feet for him. They are both ebony with chrome markings, but their similarities end there. Caleb is taller, built differently, with a sharply tipped horn, and gargantuan wings at his sides. This new stallion is slightly shorter, an average height here, with a broken horn and bare sides, and eyes of dual-colored. After nearly a minute of silence between the two, a stream-lined hound appears beside Caleb. She is sanguine, with fierce silver eyes and lips barred, revealing impressive canines. Caleb heeds no attention to his bonded and simply introduces himself to the stranger. "I am Caleb, a northern warrior. My hound is Henrietta." His voice is marble, smooth, cold, but beautiful. It's a deep, masculine sound. This baritone voice accompanied by the stallion's intimidating appearance is an overall detached and frightening figure, a power that should not be messed with. His body is a weapon, and he is not afraid to pull the trigger.

The hound at his side, Henrietta, relaxes her snarl, seeing that her master is accepting of this stranger. She settles down, sitting on her muscular haunches. The hound analyzes this stranger, but she does not see a 16.1hh wall of muscle, but something that could easily be ground into a bowl of wet dog food, or cut into a slab of raw steak. The thought makes her mouth water and eyes ablaze with hunger. Caleb, feeling the secondhand hunger peers down at Henrietta and flicks his head towards the trees, permitting Henrietta to hunt. Obediently, she sprints away, eager for food. Caleb's scorching gaze rests once again on the stranger, waiting for some sort of vocal reciprocation. He is calm, not demanding nor arrogant, he just waits for whatever this stranger is going to say.