There was something to be said for traveling, even if he had been driven out of his homeland. He was fitter than ever, broad-chested, horn glittering, hungry for a kill. Only a day or two had passed since his horn, covered in gore, had been thrust through the chest of a rampaging horse, wanting to avenge his mother's death at Treand's merciless hooves. Or rather, hard ebony horn covered in crimson runes. But the massively built black unicorn was still hungry for more death. Short-tempered, bitter, sexist, and racist, he was loved by no-one, and cared for almost no-one- except for Musa, his mother, who had died long ago. It was only after Delinne ran that he realized how much he hated her. How dare she run from him? How dare she hide? She was meant to become queen, albeit probably raped later on by her own father, but she would've had power, even if it was nothing compared to his strength.
The stallion did not hide his trail, or step lightly. He walked as a warrior, straight, impatient, direct, hooves heavy on the earth, tail swishing from side to side, fending off the flies that came in scores to any living form of life. Treand snorted, ears pinning momentarily, one hind leg lashing out, before breaking into a heavy trot. Sometime past he had entered into Helovia, but the impatient stallion didn't waste waiting around. If he absolutely had to, he would talk- he did not know of the Plague, so he considered most useless to him.
It was nearing sunset when one might notice him, the sky turning crimson and pitch, the sun a yellow eye winking out beyond the horizon, ebony skin glittering under the fading light, horn flashing dimly. The kingly asshole was tired, but he continued on in the quieting night. Birds fell silent around his malevolent presence, animals shrank back, and they did as they rightly should. While not particularly vain, Treand did consider himself superior to most animals, not that he cared much for his dusty, travel-worn hide. There was still blood upon his horn, red gore dull and a rusty shade of red-brown as dried blood often turned to. On the tank moved, steady, crimson eyes predatory.
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