Just as Kri thought there was no pity in battle, Argetlam was thinking of mercy. No, he did not consider the horses crazed for blood, ready to knock out each other, even in the thrill of battle some so loved. He, personally, preferred to think of those around him fighting for not the adrenaline surging through veins and hungry to knock out those before them, but what lay behind them. Already the groups have split into what seemed four clusters; each of appearing to be made up of five horses. To his flank was a stallion he did not know. Light gray, with two cream socks, a snip on his nose; and honey eyes, a few shades different than the crafter's softened amber. Mostly, however, Argetlam trusted this stallion because of the dragon- a royal blue. He found himself admiring the glitter and glimpse of deep, sparkling azure.

It was only, however, two against three. One, a silver mare. Argetlam had the vaguest, tendril of thought he might have seen her before- mostly he recognized the shimmer of silver scales fringed with blood crimson, a comparison that made him shiver. Never had he liked the sight, or scent, or anything to do with in fact, of blood. Not the scent of iron; not the gory muscle that often surrounded the deepest of wounds. The second mare- they were only facing mares, how interesting- was blue. Not the deep, fascinating blue of Peixo's dragon, but a shade of silver-gray-blue. She was winged, and seemed worried, maybe; lastly, was a mare spun of warm chocolate and a flaxen mane, stout and compact.

Around him, the wind suddenly came alive, swirling through the leaves and casting them away in a furious torrent, seeming to come from the huge beats of Kri's wings, but he knew it was not just wing power. It was magic, the elusive kind that ebbed and flowed. Argetlam resisted the urge to shiver upon seeing the imperious face, one that he might've liked. In fact, it looked as if he would like all these mares, if not for the fact they were trying to send him out, cast him away- well, maybe not that, but certainly overrun it. They were overrunning it right now, with their overpowering numbers. But numbers didn't mean everything. Horses say a cornered rat will fight, and it was much the same case with Argetlam. No, he would rather not fight, but he would, because he had to.

There was a sudden wrench in his gut because of two things- firstly, their Chief had let them down. He had not come. Not to rally the herd, not to fight. He had abandoned them to whatever outcome. Even though he had one of the fearsome dragons at his side, he had left them, slipped away like a ghost when the ranks upon ranks of what seemed like endless soldiers had appeared on the borders, silhouetted sharply against the rising sun. The second reason was because the mare, the chocolate mare, came flying swiftly towards him, quicker and quicker, absolutely terrifying him.

Then he rallied.

This was a mare trying to steal his home, he reasoned. She deserved what she got. If she were to try and kick him out, he could only do the same to her, even if he would rather not. The tall stallion kept his feet as light as he could, wishing desperately Ailith was at his flank, not a stranger, and then he turned on his haunches, kicking out with his hind legs, aiming towards her face as she attempted to come swooping down, instead facing his hindquarters instead of neck and crest. Carefully he tucked his head down, shifting it to the left and putting his muzzle near the ground as he lashed out, avoiding leaving his head open to any buffets from those powerful wings or flailing hooves. Although flailing was a rather unbalanced word for the mare's grace.

He pivots again, setting himself in front of Peixos, wishing to serve more as a guard than attacker. If he had to, he could go on to defensive, but he would not make the first move.

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WC: 695 words
Magic: 0/4 (?)

When Kri comes flying towards his shoulder, he turns on his hind end and kicks upwards. Again he pivots and steps in front of Peixos, in a small attempt to defend him from whatever may come.