The sound of the water made the crackle of the branch much less keen than it would have been on a dry day, the young stallion feeling the water drip off of his face as he stood and stared his new friend, waiting for whatever words would come after his agreement to join in on his nefarious plans to rule the world. He wasn't oblivious to the shattering sound of wood, however, his ears lifting and eyes turning abruptly towards the crackle in the tree line, his new found companion asking the question that threatened to come from his own lips - "Did you hear that?" The flash of lightning in unison with the fact that Ricochet's teal eyes were narrowed suspiciously gave the normally mundane sound a much more sinister overtone, the boy silently nodding in response to the question without breaking his searching gaze from the region in which he believed it to have come from.

At first, the barking of the dog is believed by the stag to be a response to the flash of light that had burned the bleak sky, but it was accompanied with a guttural growling that made both of the men tense and heighten their attentions towards what the canine had discovered. Dragomir's own ears meet his skull with little hesitation; his father's blood had granted him a keen ability to adjust to a battle mindset, and what training he had received and his brief life experiences told him that caution was the best approach when facing unknown noises.

Ricochet is first to head off towards the noise, masculine tones shouting the dog's name as if it would reveal whatever it was the hound had discovered. Dragomir isn't far behind, though his own steps are much less hostile than that of the buckskin, his long legs swinging beneath him in a smooth trot, pale eyes searching the willows for whatever devil was causing Guns to be so fervently loud. At first, the black mare appears as only the curtain of rain slipping through the branches, and Dragomir wondered to himself momentarily what crazy plant the dog had gotten a hold of that made him hallucinate and bark at nothing what so ever - but then, he sees the gleaming outline of a wing; a brief flicker, to be sure, but the boy had never been one to second guess what his senses took note of, and his heart instantly begins to slam itself quite violently about in his chest.

She has heard us, he thinks to himself, smart enough to know that her hidden position meant that she could only be spying upon their conversation, mind flying north and home to Mirage and her foreboding words, the law of her woodland herd, how long has she listened? Did she hear my name? Please, don't let her have heard my name! His eyes stare wide in disbelief of this trick of fate - he had found a kindred soul among this sea of strangers and even more bizarre gods, and for what? To lose all the other friends he had made along the way?

He would have hesitated to attack her despite the obvious threat to his comfortable life among the dragons of the World's Edge, but for the cry that is shouted into the heavens as Ricochet lunges forward; for a moment, he had even thought of slowly slipping away while Ricochet was preoccupied with the infiltrator.

It is the call of war, a praise to their lofty God, and Dragomir cannot resist its pull, his youthful enthusiasm getting the better of him as he charges in behind his new found friend, the mare's black wings all he needs to justify that this will appease their bloody God of hate and his father too far away to know what his foolish son was getting himself into.

The dangling and lazy branches of the tree slap his pelt as he charges through them, attempting to come around towards the pegasus's side as his crystal blue eyes glazed over in the lust that had overwhelmed him; when all was said and done, this emotion will terrify him, that he can so easily become a primal and vicious creature who sees only the points of weakness to be targeted on his foe, no matter that she had done nothing more than listen in on a conversation that could very well cost him the comfort and security that he had found under the easy to respect Weyrleader, a conversation that wouldn't have been any danger to him at all if he'd just said no.

His massive bulk comes bursting through the trees towards the wraith, his teeth bared in a sinister smile of sorts before they snap out towards her hideous black wings and his broad fore-hooves rise from the earth towards delicate ribs. Another crackle and burst of light fills the sky up with it's silver splendor, and he spies from the corner of his eye the dog and his buckskin friend attacking with equal fervor; whether his own attacks were landing mattered little to the youth, who's conscious (the part of him that had been filled with his mother's kind soul) plead with him to cease the madness. But he had no control over his rage, no understanding of why he hated this woman so fully - he had not known her before now, hell, he still didn't know who she was; all this selfish aspect of himself knew was that she had heard something that was such a threat to his current existence that it was worth killing her for.

He had never had anything to regret before; he couldn't know how hard it was to wear the weight of another's life on his soul and his mind in it's current state would hear nothing at all of consequences beyond a few bruises and a grand accomplishment to take home to his father.