His song lured you deeper into the forest, until you found him standing by his lake. No soft-breasted maiden here; this nereid is a stallion, beautiful and lean. He nickers softly, grazing on sweet grass, his body shimmering in the sunlight. Bands of gold shine along his muscled form, and soot-black hair trembles when he moves. He is divine, and your heart aches to see him. A shock of golden hair hangs from his forehead, like strands of sunlight spun together. You take a step - and his head darts up, gazing at you. The song is gone...but then he begins to sing again. He welcomes you.

You approach.

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 araxel delivers a stunning portrat of Bucephalus as a forest spirit. I adore this so much.