Byron's loved the Black Beach for centuries.

Of course, he'd found it thousands of years ago when he'd been a young lad, running away from the angry breeders. He'd wanted to take his parents with him, but...Well, that's a story for another time. (They were bound by the legs and told him to leave. Very much still alive, on the other side of the world.)

A sigh leaves his nostrils, and he turns, his hooves clomping softly on the sand as he walks down the shore. The Black Beach has grey sand, and the sea is always livid in the distance. The skies are always grey and stormy here.

Just how he likes it.

He halts his movements, his eyes widening a fraction as he sees a human - for the first time in who knows how long - walking down the beach and to the shore. Sudden intrigue and anger swell within his chest. Who is this?

How dare they trespass?