"Blood everywhere."

What fitting first words from a dragon whose very name means bleeding! Volterra jerks his head up from his grazing, astonished at the words in his head. He is used to his companion communicating soley in images, emotions and urges, so to have an actual deep, throaty voice resounding in his head is queer, to say the least. The giant's lips twitch into a feral smirk. Ah, his dragon is growing! Care to elaborate? he questions the red, but Vérzés' newfound ability to speak is not quite that advanced, and he cannot find the words. Instead he sends the leviathan an image of a crimson waterfall and eternally red trees, eerie and ominous. Vérzés had flown ahead at the sound of the commotion in the distance, and is only too happy to report back to his bonded about his findings.

The black monolith throws himself into a heavy canter, following his dragon's mental urgings. Forwards he goes, his pounding hooves like a rhythm of a war drum, his nostrils snorting brisk spring air out of them, his ears slicked back by the momentum of his movements. The trees part and there - there it is. Volterra has never seen anything like it. He is quite sure this wasn't here before, and his handsome features crease into a puzzled frown. Vérzés chirps a greeting and lands heavily on the colt's back, claws digging into tight flesh and thick muscle as he gives the beast's mane an affectionate tug. "Have words now," purrs the dragon, and Volterra chuckles. The blood-dragon sounds like a foal speaking for the first time, all stuttery and confused, but it's a start. Perfection takes time, something the yearling learnt many moons ago.

Arrayed around the crimson waterfall are creatures of all shapes and sizes, with markings the likes of which Volterra has never seen. One has crystals - crystals - erupting from his flesh, another is drenched in purple and black, yet another is coated in thick armour. Helovia has its quirky characters but nothing quite like this. The creatures are alien, and reek of unfamiliarity.

The young stallion arches his powerful neck and steps forward, noting the confusion emenating from most of the strangers. There's some familiar faces too - he sees Ophelia and her silver, and jealousy spikes through Vérzés at the covetous looks his bonded gives the royal. But most of the horses are unfamiliar, and the giant clears his throat. "I am Volterra," he rumbles in his thick, testosterone-fuelled baritone. "This is Helovia.  What is this place? Why is it so red?" His tail swings against his colossal flanks and he wanders closer to the pond below the falls, whilst the din of the cascade rings in his ears. How can water be red? Is it a trick of his mind, or has some great beast died and spilled its jugular into the water's source?