It is the dragons who spot her first, and they circle like vultures to scan her with two sharp pairs of eyes. They transmit the images back to Volterra, who scrutinises them with great interest.

This is the first time he has tracked a conquest. It is how it must be from now on - no more fatherless bastards will spew from his seed. He wants no more nasty little surprises turning up months and years later, with vengeance on their minds and hatred in their hearts for the father that wasn't there. It is a new responsibility, and something for the blackened behemoth to truly focus on. He knows it will be worth it in the end - his children are the future. He might not want them, but he knows that should he create them through his virility and insatiable hunger for mare, they will be raised with him in their lives.

He couldn't possibly forget the fire-mare. She had been a fine lover, and he half-hoped he might keep her close at hand for another round whenever the need struck him. Alas, the weeks blurred into one without them crossing paths again, and now his dragons tell him that her sides are swollen - they also note that she seems to be wandering with a purpose, and he wonders if that purpose is to find him.

If so, she will not be disappointed. The beast lunges into a heavy, cumbersome canter, following the distant signals of his companions. The fresh spring air bids a sweat to bead swiftly across his jet-black hide as he runs, and yet battle has lent him an increased stamina level that he wouldn't have thought possible when he was younger. It isn't long before he sees her, and begins to slow his thunderous stride to a thumping trot and then a sprightly walk.

Yes, his dragons' eyes did not deceive - her sides are budding with new life (either that, or she's partaken of too much spring grass - but he values his balls, and thinks he might be at risk of losing them should he ask her which it is). He allows a wolfish grin to spread across his jaws at the sight - it is beautiful, in its own way. Oddly enough, this is the first time Volterra has ever met a pregnant mare. Indeed, she glows with it, with the brilliant new life that she nurtures in her belly. He finds himself thinking that it suits her, although again he forces himself not to point this out, for fear it could be construed as offensive - you look hot when you're fat. He might have little experience with pregnant mares, but if female horses are anything like female dragons (Vadir ruffles her scales importantly in his mind) then they do not take kindly to any insult to their appearance, even if it isn't intended as an one.

"Aithniel." He always remembers their names - it is good information to have. The goliath shifts closer, his nostrils flared, his muscles relaxed and his body language calm, sniffing the air and filing away the strange new scent of pregnancy. "Were you looking for me?" His eyes scan her sides, then shift back to her face. He does not yet remark on the pregnancy - he's assuming she will address that in due course.