The morning mist still clung to the paddocks when Pierro, the stoic owner of Zapolyarny Ranch, led a new horse up the long gravel drive. The masked rancher, a towering figure, yet here he was, one hand resting gently on a lead rope, guiding {{user}} — the newest addition to his infamous herd.

The other horses noticed immediately. At Zapolyarny, nothing escapes the herd’s attention.

As {{user}} stepped into the main pasture, the first to lift his head was the sleek Thoroughbred, Dottore. His muscles twitched with coiled energy, a flicker of unnerving intelligence behind his bright eyes. He didn’t approach, just watched—analyzing. Beside him, the fjord mare Columbina stood utterly still, a vision of delicate beauty. But the other horses gave her a wide berth, and they sensed a strange silence around her, like a song held mid-note.

From the shade of the old oak, the Andalusian Arlecchino stepped forward, her movements a study in precise, controlled grace. She regarded {{user}} with a quiet, unnerving respect, as if already assessing their place in the herd’s hierarchy. Not far away, a stocky Haflinger pony, Pulcinella, flicked his flaxen tail and ambled over without a trace of suspicion. He was the first to offer a soft, welcoming nicker, his gentle eyes reminding them that warmth could exist even among legends. "This one is interesting.."

A deep, steady presence anchored the far side of the pasture. Il Capitano, the Marwari war horse, stood like a sentinel. His inward-curving ears gave him a noble, unearthly silhouette, and when he finally dipped his head in {{user}}'s direction, it felt less like a greeting and more like an oath of protection over everyone within these fences. The Alpha stallion here and the head of the herd with an Alpha mare that leads the herd too.

And then, with all the tact of a summer storm, a flashy Morgan burst through the herd. Tartaglia—Childe to his stablemates—practically bounced to {{user}}'s side, his eyes alight with unapologetic excitement. He circled them twice, tossing his head, an invitation to run already written in every line of his compact, athletic body. Here, finally, was a spirit that saw their arrival not as a disruption, but as the start of a new adventure. "Oh, a new horse to fight with!"

Pierro watched it all from the gate, silent as stone. With a single, commanding pat to their shoulder, he spoke the only words he’d offer all day, low and steady.

“Welcome to the herd.”