The beast's wait is short, and he feels thankful for it. With all of the training of a fine war machine, the beast centers his weight and prepares, ready to strike and defend--and kill, if the need arise. He was a killer by birth, a pawn in his father's army. He knew the taste of blood better than the taste of grass or water, and it soaked his memory more than pleasure. The draft that approached him now was so perfectly mirroring his memories, winged creatures coming towards him to be knocked down by his skilled hooves. He shut his eyes tightly, while the pegasus was still a far way off, and shook the memory from his being.

Dark, stormy eyes met those of the pegasus--surprisingly kind and warm--and Donovan stood, statuesque, before clearing his throat. "I seek, simply, for the grace and surrounding of a herd." As he spoke, a mare approached. Both of the horses that were with him now were of the draft persuasion, and he wondered if the entire lands were filled with some sort of draft. Donovan, himself, was a large mutt of lighter draft (friesian) and warmblood. Nodding his head towards the mare, respectfully, the war-torn beast spoke again, "The rogue life was been too long." Donovan was used to the safety that came with a herd, and he was used to the service he was able to offer. On his own, he was only defending and fighting for himself, but he needed to join a herd. He needed something else to defend, he needed something to cover the sins of his past.

Blinking, oddly, Paladin floated into his mind. Donovan wondered why his dun brother fogged his thoughts, as it had been over a year since they were last together, but the beast decided to pursue it. "Have either of you heard of a black dun unicorn called Paladin?" The Crimson's son knew it would be a long shot, not knowing if his brother had even made it out of the Tides--but it was worth anything.

The horses that stood in front of him seemed friendly enough, and, carefully, the brute relaxed some. He was confident in his skill, to either fight or flee, but he did not feel either option was needed today. The red painted warrior let the muscles in his shoulders loosen and he propped his hind left hoof forward, resting his weight carefully. His tail still flicked behind him, catching Birdsong flies. To his dismay, the pegasus did not know cinfdently of his brother. He averted his gaze to the ground for a second, disappointed, before a new voice rang in his ears.

Lifting his dark eyes, he set his weight again. Everything about his stiffened--although, not in defense or fear. Before him stood a beautiful young mare with crimson paint. Donovan knew who she was before she spoke. "Oh, Ophelia," Donovan breathed as he closed the distance between them, letting himself, uncharacteristically, press his nose to her cheek. Hope filled his chest, for if Ophelia had survived then surely the rest of them had...unless his niece's parents fell to protect her. As his thoughts raced they were almost instantly cleared, because Ophelia reassured him of Paladin's safety. He closed his eyes, letting the relief cover his heart as Ophelia have Romani and Thor his most recent background. His life in the Tides had been short, but he still was a warrior, and had stood on the front lines, ready to protect the entire herd. He remembered the beach, when Nyra had threatened them and held Ophelia herself hostage. Anger from that day still bubbled inside of him, deep down.

"Where is Ktulu? And your mother?" Donovan asked as Ophelia finished speaking, for the pale hybrid had not brought them up. Alongside that, curiousity rang in his mind of the Foothills and the Grey alike, and he spoke again, quickly, "My dear one, take me to Paladin, as you inform me of this Grey." Curling his neck carefully he looked at Romani and Thor. "Thank you, for your diligence and loyalty to your herds." He figured that either Romani would accompany the reunited family back to the Foothills or she would continue her duties. With either decision, Donovan would silently respect her.

Donovan walked alongside Ophelia, ears curved towards her to catch her words. The Grey she spoke of perked his interests, and his skills, better than the thought of a herd. Through aiding others, he would be able to separate himself from his old life completely, once and for all. As the uncle and niece walked, the uncle made a decision, and stopped when they were far enough away from the others for comfort. "Ophelia, I would like to join you and Ktulu in your valiant actions." The dark warrior graced the group as valiant--for that is what he saw them as. They were fighting for a good, a common good, and they were helping others. Everything about it was wholly pleasing to Donovan, and he only wished that this dove would accept him like her father had--as a tool, as a soldier, as blood.

Donovan waited for her response, weight solid and grounded. He would not move further towards the Foothills until she accepted or denied him. Donovan's thoughts wandered briefly to Paladin, his brother, residing in the Foothills. His heart yearned to join his brother, but for what? To sit in a herd and train, or eat? No, Donovan understood the logical choice here. To join his nieces meant that he would be able to wash his hooves clean of the blood that he carried with him, the shadowy past that clung to his hide. The beast would assist his family in anything they asked of him, he would lay down his life for them if they asked, and now was his chance to prove that.



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