The spiderweb filly performs the required moves with remarkable skill, and the leviathan rumbles his pleasure. "Excellent," comes the deep growl of his voice. "Now, you have proven that you know the theory. I am a great believer in the fact that practical experience is the most useful, however." With that, he steps backwards so he's on the edge of the clearing, leaving a wide space around Vezér. Now, he tells the dragons.

The edge of the clearing erupts in flame, and fleeing from the inferno is a wolf. It is not a fully-grown wolf - Volterra may be determined to toughen his daughter up, but he's not quite stupid enough to find her a truly formidable opponent - but a lanky, half-grown teenager, big enough to be intimidating but not big enough to prove too great of a challenge. Its jaws are slavering, its muscles quivering and its ribs just about visible beneath its lank grey fur; it is obviously hungry. The dragons have obeyed his commands to the letter - find a young wolf, suffering from the effects of the season, and seperate it from its pack so Volterra can use it to train his daughter. The red and gold have herded the wolf through the forest with billows of flame and frost, and its sides are heaving from the exertion as it prowls around the clearing, glancing cautiously behind itself to ensure it is no longer being pursued.

Well done, he says to the dragons, who both land on nearby trees and preen happily. With a flick of his mind, the stallion uses his magic to erect a low wall around the edge of the clearing to enclose himself, the wolf and Vezér inside. There's no escape for the spiderweb filly, but Volterra knows he is close enough to step in if his daughter shows any sign of struggling.

He is rather confident that will not be the case, though. His eyes linger pityingly on the wolf - such a magnificent creature, the symbol of his maternal ancestors. It seems almost cruel to use it in such a way, to treat its life as a means to an end, but Volterra puts his daughter's welfare before all else. He is sure the animal's spirit will find peace, having died to ensure that a young foal lives.

Because it will die, one way or another. It just doesn't know it yet.

"Use what I've just shown you, Vezér. There's a world of difference between practicing on thin air and practicing on an actual predator, but I know you can do it." He examines his daughter, hunting for signs of fear but praying he won't find any. She's stronger than that, better than that, and he is sure she will pass this test with flying colours.

Now it has ascertained that it is no longer being chased by a pair of dragons, the wolf can focus on filling its empty belly. Its pack has struggled to find food for weeks, and it is ravenous - its eyes travel first to the large stallion, but it knows better than to attack something so big without its family to help it. It looks away, and...aha! The filly is small enough to take down but big enough to provide a meal that will fill the wolf's stomach for days - how its pack will rejoice when it drags such a magnificent carcass home! Drool swings from its jowls as it snarls, raises its hackles, and lunges towards the filly with jaws agape, aiming straight for her throat.