His skin shivers, trembles, jumps.  Water dances from it with every twitch and spasm but it isn't enough to completed shed the day's deluge.  He shakes his head, trying to clear away the spot lights and throbbing pain from his impact with the branch, briefly disoriented.  The shock has not calmed him, only transmuted the sudden outburst into something that turns internal, winding tighter and tighter- a spring compressed until it might-

Something moves.

The white stallion's head jerks up and he dances back from the sudden appearance of another, barely registering the words at first.  His rump hits the tree he earlier kicked and he shies sideways, a quick skirting of dainty hooves that nearly seem to tangle on one another.  His eyes flit from the stranger to his two companions, creatures that seem not unlike the deer he has seen in passing in his travels.  There is something other about them though, and the black pools of the other stallion's eyes do not leave Seanan comforted.

He doesn't strike out though.  He has nothing to defend here, there is no reason to fight.  Sides heaving as though he has run for miles, the white stallion simply watches the painted in silence for a long moment, struggling to recall enough speech to respond.  How does he explain the fear of the cage and of drowning on dry land?  Further, how can he say this place is safe?  How does he know?  What proof is there that somewhere from which you cannot flee, where the trees crowd around like demons in the darkness, is safe?

He can't articulate these thoughts.  His muzzle parts briefly, as though to speak, then the broad ivories snap shut with a decisive click, half a warning to the other and half frustration at himself.  So wrapped up in his own head, he hardly notices his height advantage over the other.  It makes little difference when it is notices, marked and ignored as inconsequential.  It would be a disservice to many he had held dear to think that someone smaller than he could not still best him in physical conflict.  

He lifts his front hooves from the ground again, but this time it is little more than a harsh stamp, an attempt to dispel the frustrated adrenaline that keeps his mind whirling.  

"Who could be safe in this damned lake?"  The words escape him explosively, staccato and interrupted by the heaviness of his breathing and the frustrated snap of his teeth.  His body remains bunched, tight, caught between the stranger, his companions, and the trees around him.  his skin jumps and trembles but he does not shiver from cold.  He can barely feel the chill of the rain over the fire of his blood and the fearpanicrage that screams in his head.

OOC:// I don't mind either way, and thank you!  I'm still getting the hang of him.  I'll add you to skype when I get home- I'm wilsonkellie