Eyota stood by the river as the sun rose slowly in the distance. Mist had risen up off the water and hung lazily, waiting to be evaporated in the heat. The golden coated stallion practiced the fighting stances and strikes his father had taught him. Now that there was a herd, there would need to be ones to protect it, and he was up for the job.

He was glad that things had quieted down since the forming of the herd. The loud and busy pace was inviting at first, but soon it wore on him. The half blood was so entrapped in his practice that he didn't hear when another approached him.