It hardly took long, after that dinner had finished, for the competitors to settle themselves. Horses were fed and watered and rugged for the evening before their riders checked those ropes that fastened them for the night and retired to their own tents. Lamp after lamp slowly turned out before the shuffling of sleeping bags quietened and a contented sort of peace fell across that little camp. The vast majority of riders, after all, were as exhausted from the days' travel as their mounts. That rest was a precious, priceless commodity. Frost, with his head angled towards Khan's tent and his dun-coloured stallion, was content to doze on three legs at the end of his rope, the war horse alternating legs every now and then to assure each one had sufficient rest. Here, on this hill, miles away from any true city or town, the stars above were....beyond anything the equine had truly seen outside of Iceland. The night sky was a canopy that stretched onward and onward. The stars that littered it seemed almost impossibly bright. How curious that he found such...peace in that. Sleep came easily. Yet wakefulness, several hours later, came just as swiftly. One mare, on the far side of the camp, shifted almost anxiously. The sounds of her movement were enough to prompt some measure of alertness in the ivory stallion as one ear twitched towards the source of the sound. The mare, as quickly as she had become unsettled, seemed to settle again. Hmmm. A false alarm then.
Frost had only just begun to settle back into that sleep when Khan's dun stallion began to stir. The normally stoic creature had become alert at the end of its rope, that deep, heavy snort the very kind horses were inclined to when they saw something...unusual. Frost's violet gaze flickered open to eye the dun, the deep nicker it offered was hardly directed towards him. Had a fox come through that camp to unsettle them all? Frost's ears pricked upward atop his head once more. Khan, he was certain, was still within his tent. His stallion was unlikely to offer that alarm at his own rider. Perhaps a wild dog was close by. Frost allowed his own soft snort to escape him, the stallion shuffling in an effort to get comfortable once more before a soft, nearly imperceptible sound to his left prompted the equines head to turn toward Alexander's tent. Where the white mare had come from he hardly knew, nor how she had managed to move to silently as not to alert him until now. Her coat was as white as his own and yet far more pristine. Frost, he was certain, would have remembered seeing this mare amongst the contestants horses. She was no mere mongolian pony or arabian half-breed. She was tall, fine and far more elegant than any other horse. Frost, for several long moments, was merely inclined to stare- at least until the mare began to nose at the zipper of Alexander's tent. Exceptional or otherwise, Alexander would hardly appreciate Frost allowing another horse to break into his tent.
One large, feathered hoof struck sharply at the ground, that sound surely enough to prompt the mare to lift her head from that zipper and turn towards him. His own ears pinned backward in readiness to chase off that intruder- at least until she turned to face him. Frost was struck in that moment by the realisation that this mare was a Were like himself and perhaps far more notable in that moment was the very fact that she appeared to....have....a horn. On her head. Like a unicorn. Frost's ears slid forward near immediately once more, the equine having shifted from irritated to very near...dumbfounded as his own figure froze in silent stare. Had that mare's milk Alexander shared with him been alcoholic? Surely he hadn't drunk enough to render him intoxicated enough for....illusions had he? For several long moments that pair of equines seemed content to merely stare at one another before, at last, Frost moved to take a single step forward- followed by another and another. His own neck arched over, his steps shifting to something perhaps a little...higher and yet, really, could he truly be blamed? It was a very....pretty mare...unicorn. If he was drunk he so hardly intended to complain about this particular illusion.
Frost paused just before her, any further progress momentarily halted by that rope at his neck he had very near forgotten about before his muzzle extended outward and toward her own. He had currently never scented this mare before either. Where in gods name had she come from? Although, perhaps that more pressing question had been why she had been attempting to break into Alexander's tent. Gorgeous or not she had still been attempting to undo that zipper while Alexander slept.
"You know, the horn would have worked better for undoing the zipper."
Those words were pressed smoothly to her mind. Frost certain she would understand them as the violet of his gaze lingered upon her. Perhaps assisting her in undoing that tent was hardly...ideal and yet, really, slipping the tip of that horn into the hole of the zipper and pulling upward would be far easier then trying to grasp it in her teeth. Frost shifted ever so slightly closer once more, as far as that rope would allow, the stallion uninclined to go back and untie it when he had managed to get so close to what he was still certain appeared to be an actual unicorn.
"What are you...doing here?"
Had she been following them? A veritable plethora of questions turned within his mind and yet the reason for her very existence seemed the most pressing in that moment as Frost's gaze continued to run over her figure, his eyes lingering time and again upon that horn. Alexander, within that tent, seemed to stir then as Frost's gaze shifted back towards the sleeping Hunter. The Macedonian, thankfully, seemed to settle a moment later. Frost's gaze returned to the mare then. God she was....perfection.
"I can't let you wake him. He's not a morning person."
Those words were offered in that same cool, near apathetic fashion in which Frost seemed to speak in general. That veritable joke delivered so bluntly it was near impossible to tell whether or not the stallion had attempted to be humorous and yet that fascination upon his own features was nothing short of clear. Alexander....was never going to believe this.