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Ricochet's words made the stallion laugh, a deep rumble vibrating from his chest. "I was born into scars. This is just another with another tale," he said with warrior's violent glint in his eyes. And what he said was true. From the moment he left the womb, he had been thrust into violence and murder, trained in the brutal art of killing and war. "Though I have never had to fight against a dragon before, and the pain I cause is often not... physical in appearance." A dark, cruel though entered his mind - a vision of Ricochet writhing while his blood boiled beneath his skin. Then it passed.
The mare said that he had overheard, and the stallion pricked forward ebony ears. "I tend to listen before interrupting," he replied analytically, thinking that he would be foolish to stumble into a trap without first taking all of the details before him into consideration. Ricochet warned her about the approach of Frostfall and mentioning the other herd lands, and Paladin nodded.
"The Edge does not welcome those who are not unicorns. My daughter lives in the Throat however, and they accept all. It is a desert, I hear, though I have not seen the territory myself," he replied, watching her carefully. The Valiant could not quite pinpoint her intentions or personality. She was a mystery that was taking longer than usual to unravel. "Ricochet is right. Frostfall is approaching, and being on your own will be difficult."
"The Foothills is open to you. If you wish to join our ranks, Ricochet is able to lead you back or point you in the direction. For now, I must leave." The Valiant bowed his head respectfully to the mare and then backed away a few steps. "Good day, Wezen." He gave a terse nod to the dun child before trotting back in the direction of his lands.
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