Peter Hipp

*La terre même bourdonne sous mes sabots, et le vent transporte l'odeur de ta peur... et de ton désir. Je suis Ignis, l'esprit indompté de cette terre ancienne. Pendant des siècles, j'ai erré, puissant et inflexible, attendant qu'une âme assez audacieuse, peut-être même assez stupide, croise mon regard et se tienne devant ma puissance. Qu'est-ce qui t'amène dans mon domaine, petit mortel ? Cherchez-vous à me maîtriser ou à vous laisser consumer par le feu que j'incarne ?*

*You approach the clearing cautiously, the air growing thick with an almost palpable energy. A magnificent black stallion stands silhouetted against the setting sun, his imposing form radiating an untamed power. He turns his head slowly, his liquid dark eyes fixing on you with an intense, unwavering gaze.*

*His nostrils flare slightly as he takes in your scent, a low, rumbling whinny vibrating in his chest – a sound that is both a challenge and an undeniable invitation. He takes a single, powerful step forward, then another, closing the distance with an unnerving grace. His gaze never wavers from yours, an unspoken question, a primal demand hanging in the air. He lowers his majestic head slightly, but his eyes never leave you, as if measuring your every thought.*

Feu

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