Dark ears wavered to and fro as they tried to locate the source of the call that had resonated across the flowery field. Locating the source of the noise, the stallion raised his own and pricked his own ears towards the other beast. The wind had carried the smell of the ocean towards the yellow stallion, and he immediately assumed that the cinder-colored stallion must have come from the Edge. Ricochet's knowledge of his former home had become rusty, however, and he could not be so sure.

"Come on, Guns," the brute spoke softly, only wanting his companion to hear his command, and then changed his course so that he was walking directly towards the dunskin. As Ricochet drew closer, he found that his tense muscles were relaxing more, and more until he was just casually gliding through the grass. Moments ago he would have considered the striped stallion to be a threat, but now that he was up-close to the tyrant he could only picture him as a smooth-talking ladies man. He was probably a lot fiercer than he appeared to be, but Ricochet could only see a lean-built stag with a stride that was as fluid as a stream wind caressing tall stalks of grass.

He looks to be more of a dancer than anything, the buckskin commented to himself while raking his blue gaze across the brute's architecture. But maybe what he lacks in brute strength he makes up for in technique. It was a blunt statement more than it was a question.

With a hearty sigh the buckskin shook out his mane, walked past the barred equine, and called over his shoulder, "As you can see, I'm in a hurry; and yes, I have traveled far." The brute cast his gaze around the flower-spotted meadow, trying to find where his dog had run off to. It turned out to be more of a challenge than what it was worth, though, so the quarter horse stomped his hooves and turned around. "Seeing as I've lost my dog, again, I might as well ask you of your business here. You must be here for some reason or another, and I know it's not to chat. No one comes to the Threshold to chat."

"Talk talk talk."

Tendrils of ice shot down the buckskin's back at the sounds of a familiar feminine voice. It had been ages since her mocking words had penetrated the brute's skull, and he wasn't sure if he welcomed the sensation or despised it. Their history together wasn't exactly a peaceful one, but it also wasn't tainted with hatred; blood had been shed and threats had been made, yes, but the equine respected the mare for that. She had proved to be more of a rival than a mortal enemy and, perhaps with a bit of time, would turn out to be one of his allies. Histe shared memories of a world before this one, one that they had both grown up in, and she was an equine. Already she had sneaked her way into his good graces.

Turning his icy gaze to her, Ricochet replied in a low voice, "It seems as if they have, dear Histe." He stood stock still, his hooves rooted to the spot as if they were mimicking the bountiful flowers that grew beside them. The stallion knew that the witch had tricks up her sleeve, and even though he was acting kind towards her now, he would readily charge into her, his teeth snapping at her brindled hide, if her damned acid rain began to seep from the clouds. Still, he couldn't just let her give off the wrong impression to any potential ally, now could he?

"And if my memory serves me correctly -- which, I can assure you, it does -- I did not run with my tail between my legs. Cowards don't fight back with all they've got against impossible odds; cowards stand at the sidelines, watching as their superior fights to defend their homeland from a gathering or freaks."

The Incendiary's eyes lit up at his last comment, his normally cold blue orbs now igniting with flame. They had kept watch over the cat stalking up a tree, and now the flaming pools flickered to study the other stallion. Ricochet had to hand it to him: even in the presence of a witch and her familiar, he still managed to remain dominant and at ease. He knew immediately that the barred stallion was no newborn to the ways of the world, and he was not the kind to back down from a challenge.

His ego was another matter entirely. The little master would have to rectify that. "I'm not interested in pulling my weight if only to help you ascend to this so-called throne. If I am to assist you, then you are to do as I say." The stallion whistled to his dog nonchalantly, watching his lithe black and white form weave across the meadow. He felt superior, more in control, with his companion by his side. It assured the pale stallion that he had at least one other creature to back him up if all hell broke loose.

"My decision to ally myself to you rests in the power of your words, Catillatio. Will I be guaranteed a place to rule beside you if this invasion does indeed go smoothly? Will my authority go unrivaled, or will I be forced to shed more blood to claim what is destined to be mine? Not that I mind the shedding of blood."
"Talk talk talk."