Little defective colt trudges through thick and unnaturally luscious tundra grasses, with his best friend striding slowly at his side. Manhattan walks along carrying a limp from the jungle cat's injury, and a trauma that she shan't forget for quite some time. The pair is silent and almost still as they walk. The pup is unnaturally calm and silent- perhaps it is her companion's reclusive tendencies that has made her this way. She trots uneasily and with constant trips in between his thick legs, that stand as pillars even as young as he is. He will grow to be a grand stallion, rising higher than so many others, and yet there will always be the hindrance of the mind. The voices grow louder as he lowers his head to enter one of the melting cave entrances, and Manhattan pulls herself closer to his side. Water drips steadily upon the pair like an ancient chinese torture, and with a yelp, she runs from it to hide beneath her only friend.

He is unfazed and stands stolidly beneath the broken stream. With steady blue-gray eyes he looks into the depths of the cave, which reflects with the wet of Tallsun in the land of winter, and shines with a bizarre hint of abnormality. At his heavy hooves Manhattan whines, fearful of the dark hollow of the cave, yet burdened just as equally by Tallsun's unmerciful heat. The pair are no match for the sun god's endless summer with their thick, black coats and their eyes suited to the darkness of the deep woods. He was born bathed in blood, not light.

The bridle wrapped around his neck shines a faint green and sets the cavern alight as the pair rest within it, seeming lost and out of place. Silence, interrupted only by the faint plop of a water droplet hitting the puddle covered ground, draws Manhattan from beneath his legs and out into the false shadow of the caves. She lifts her nose curiously and drops her jaw to scent the air, but is met only with the overwhelming fragrance of decay and an air of uncomfortable humidity. He stands tall despite it, his massive nostrils flaring with each shuddered breath and his eyes focused on the shadows ever still. The voices ask him why he is hiding, only to answer their own question and mock him with a twisted, deafening laughter.

The pup senses her master's fear, but has her own. He speaks with a surprisingly deep voice, repeating with some alteration one of the first phrases he ever learned. "Come, Manhattan," comes the gentle order as he turns to her scared mug. His head lowers to greet her touch, and she takes a hesitant step forward, only to slip on the slick floor. There is a yelp as her injured leg twists against the ice, and he is by her side in an instant, lifting her by the scruff and placing her upon his back. Oversized paws scramble for a grip, but with a wide back and a steady stance he supports her- she relaxes upon the realization. Slowly, she learns to trust. Slowly, he learns to love.