There were footsteps interrupting the relative muteness of the forest. A white form approached, pale, slender, and more unlike Medusa than anyone Treand had set eyes on; Medusa was dark, magnificent, cold, and this mare was pale, antlered, and gorgeous. Treand turned his obsidian head slowly, nares flaring, crimson eyes darkening. A mare, he thought, a petty mare. The bleak, malevolent stallion cared little for such creatures, no matter their charm or feminine wiles. Only one mare had he truly held affection for- Medusa, the ebony Friesian who so carefully raised him, fondling over him and teaching him how to use his thick, broad build to fight, to batter down his enemy and gut them like herring, without fear, without love, just vile pleasure.

Treand finds it difficult to contain a roll of his blood-red eyes, and whisks his ebony tail across his flanks, shifting on the ground impatiently. He tosses his head as the mare comes closer, feeling she hardly qualifies as unicorn with the damn antlers on her brow. At the very least, she is a little better than pegasus air-heads or damn horses. Deciding to leave her be, the stoutly-built stallion listens to her with a barely controlled temper. Yes, she may be a unicorn, but she's a damn strange one at that and hardly deserves his respect. It doesn't help that she's a mare.

"A herd of unicorns, you say?" Treand grunts, eyeing her with barely disguised contempt. At least he could find a steady old stallion, hopefully, in this home she talked about. The slightly fuzzy stallion thrust his head forward, the line of his jaw hard, eyes cold, and growled in his typical bad temper- "Fine, Arah. Lead on. Treand, by the way, father of Delinne and Delium. You seen them?" The broad-chested stallion began moving, hardly controlling the sudden urge to spear her. Who knew why? He is not a kind horse, not even a horse who liked his daughter much beyond using her, and with his age his temper would only grow shorter.

Maybe he was being more obvious than usual, but the white mare seemed pretty keen to pick up on his "subtle" body movements that portrayed his disgust and contempt for her. She moved swiftly in front of them, her long mane and tail trailing on the ground, haughty as a whore, Treand decided, and her voice lost all warmth when she told him she had not seen his children. With a slight huff of annoyance, Treand picked up the pace, matching her step for step. It was too bad she didn't know her place- she was attractive enough, the black stallion supposed.

Whatever the case, it didn't matter. He needed to gloss over the sticky situation, for now anyways- even if he was sexist, and racist, and an asshole, he didn't want to be disliked in any case, as futile as that want is. He listened without comment to her description of the Basin he was to become part of, mildly curious as to how, exactly, a mare got to the top of the food chain. Did she poison the old leader? Attack him? Draw him in and cut his throat? Or was she, maybe, simply standing in place for the old leader? Yes, he thought, it was much more likely she was simply substituting until someone more appropriate for the position could be chosen as leader. If not... well, it was a bit of a hiccup, but as long as there were some decent stallions, eh, what the fuck. Besides, he was planning on looking for Delinne and Delium for the meanwhile- and giving them a more than verbal talking-to for abandoning him. The thought of it melted his glacial heart, even if only a little bit.

As for acceptance, there would be no trouble with that. He could always fight in order to be allowed acceptance as a warrior- which he would certainly join as. One day, he would become something greater in this damn land, but that was one day. For now, he was content to become a warrior. "Well, good. But thank you anyways for guiding me." Treand rumbled, and the sun winked out, with the night sky replacing the blue.