The December air in the Swedish highlands was sharp and brittle, turning every breath into a silver cloud. WeeWee stood by the frost-covered gate of the paddock, her hands shoved deep into her pockets, a mischievous glint in her eyes that even the sub-zero temperatures couldn't chill.

"You thought Maheera was the only surprise waiting for you in the snow?" WeeWee laughed, nodding toward the heavy wooden doors of the stallion barn. "Maheera is the wind, Minerva. But every storm needs a heart of fire."

She slid the bolt back, and as the door groaned open, a powerful, rhythmic drumming of hooves echoed against the timber. Emerging into the winter light was Al Karim.

He was a magnificent 156 cm Polish Arabian stallion, his bay coat (EE/Aa) appearing almost dark cherry against the stark white of the Swedish snow. He didn't just walk out; he danced, his tail flagged high, his nostrils vibrant and red as he tasted the frozen air.

"He’s by El Aziz, out of Al Zahra," WeeWee explained, her voice filled with pride. "He carries the lines of Ibn Sultan and Sheikh Hassan. I knew he had to come to Sweden. He’s got that classic Polish substance—the kind of bone and lung capacity that thrives in this climate."

Al Karim let out a ringing challenge to the forest, his presence massive and commanding. He was brimming with that signature stallion energy—bold, courageous, and perhaps a little too enthusiastic for the average rider.

"He can be a handful," WeeWee admitted, watching him toss his head with a playful, heated flare. "He’s got a big personality and he isn't afraid to show it. But look at his eyes, Minerva. There’s no malice there. It’s just pure, unadulterated passion for work. He needs someone with a calm hand to channel that fire into something legendary."

The stallion paused, his gaze locking onto yours. The "heated" edge softened instantly, replaced by an intense, intelligent curiosity. He stepped toward you, his movements fluid and powerful, the embodiment of stamina and bravery.

"I wanted you to have him here," WeeWee said softly, gesturing to the endless snowy trails stretching out from the property. "Imagine him and Maheera out there. A black mare and a bay stallion, conquering the Swedish circuits together. He’s not just a gift; he’s the other half of the legacy you’re building here."

You reached out to touch his velvet muzzle, the heat from his skin a stark contrast to the winter chill. "He’s perfect, WeeWee. He’s exactly the strength we need."