Atop a snowcovered hill... Just before sunset... "Waiting atop a snowcovered hill, the two standing silent, facing the sunset in the west. The one eyed old man mumbling strange words into the cold air. The haze spreading fast across the purple and blue vault. The winds taking up speed, bending the trees down the valley, throwing the snow crystals up and against the mountainside into gigantic sparkling clouds high in the sky. The voice of the one eyed old man becoming stronger. The words now spoken with increased intensity as if he was calling someone or something. And so a hazy white figure appears on the horizon, blazing across the sky with the speed of the winds... a part of the wind. A horse as white as snow, galopping across the mist, its eight hooves blistering like bolts of lightning. The one eyed old man crying out loud in the blaze to him, to take its reins and not to let go. And thus he had been given The Stallion..." Tendons and muscles of steel. And the blaze of lightning in its eyes. White as the snow on the hills. And it's reins, that I hold, they are mine. This stallion and sword in exchange for my heart and both of my eyes. The ravens of swift wings my sight Surely now victory must be mine. Eight legged stallion of mine. Run with the speed of the winds. Eight legged stallion I stride. Run as if you carried wings. I paint thee with the blood from my veins Images of origin long lost. I adorn your white mane and tail