R I C O C H E T - - raise your GUN and it's over

The Incendiary had been expecting the dainty mare to flee at the sound of his raging screams, but instead he was met with rebellion. He didn't know whether he was disappointed or excited. His blood began to boil as the brute worked himself into a frenzy, his battle-marred hide aching for the touch of a determined warrior to flesh out new scars. The fact that the challenge in his voice had not gone unheard told him that Kahlua was daring, albeit lacking any intelligence (Who would dare strike out at him?), but the warlord was momentarily displeased that his threats had not sent the lithe dancer running. He would have much rather liked to have watched her ass as it sped away from him than feel her blunt teeth run across his ribs, but all was forgotten when the leaner, more agile vixen charged at him.

What does she think she’s doing? He wondered during the moments that it took for him to brace his stocky architecture, and for her to snap at his flank. Ricochet almost shook his head disdainfully when her whites met his bony hide. There was barely any meat there for her to sink her teeth into – he, too had found it hard to locate food in this dark winter – and her cutting utensils grazed harmlessly along his side, receiving a mouthful of his hair as a parting gift. Turning his head slightly – and into a passing gale – to watch what she was doing, teal eyes narrowed at her tensing hindquarters, his mind for battle anticipating that she was preparing herself for a kick. Stocky forelegs took on the whole of his bodyweight as the dethroned king swung his hindquarters to his right, swiftly performing a front-heavy spin to avoid the painted lady’s hooves. Unfortunately for the Incendiary, the time that he had taken to watch what she was doing had slowed his dodge considerably, and he did not escape her airborne hooves completely. His buttermilk hide twitched with the impact of hooves on flesh, and although her striking hooves did not find much purchase on his evading form, she was quick to administer a numbing ache and developing bruise.

“Who would’ve thought you had it in you?” His tone is mocking and he lets loose a dark laugh, but the tyrant has no time to make conversation. Those few words have given his opponent enough time to face up towards him again. Teal eyes rake over the mare’s splashed pelt before he makes any hasty decisions. The equine is searching for weak spots that he could exploit, and he is surprised to see that the pair of them actually have many similarities. Their matching height and hollow bellies put them each on an equal playing field, but whereas her build was constructed more for speed, his was built for power. She lacked the muscle that his father had worked – and bred – into him, and although they were composed of similar breeds, he was no mixed-breed mutt.

Hooves bombarded the frozen earth as the fearless beast charged across it, sending bits of dead or dying grass flying as the daunting steed charged towards the frail vixen. Gold ears flick backwards at the memory of the collie ripping at the flesh on her right fore, and Ricochet shifts his lead to his front left leg to provide his left shoulder with more power upon impact. His head is lowered and his legs come up high; he knows that his forward motion could present an opportunity for his opponent to strike, and he wants to increase the odds that any flying hooves or gnashing teeth will land on someplace safe. This isn’t his first outing in the wild, after all.

Sparse moments have passed since the dun lurched forwards in a charge, and it takes only a few swift steps for him to position himself on a path to Kahlua’s left shoulder. If the mare was as ‘slow’ as he had made her out to be, then she would hopefully had no time to react his sudden gallop, and he attempts to drive his left shoulder into her own left shoulder as he had before, in the hopes of forcing her weight in her right fore and weakening it even further. Swinging his head to the left with the momentum, Ricochet tries to bash it against her frail ribs and lets his soft fur slide against her own, bringing his head up to her bony withers where he can attempt to grab hold of her mane. If his hold on her is successful and she is forced to stay close to him, then the Incendiary will try to stomp on her left heel with his own left hoof, his shoulder and neck pushing into her all the while.

{800 words| Attack 1/3 | Companion 0/2 | Magic -/- | Defense 0/1| Battle Buffs: Swift and bulk
Summary: Ricochet takes Kahlua’s bite to his flank, tearing out some hair in doing so, and he shifts his weight onto his forelegs so he can swing his hindquarters to the right and away from her kicking feet. She still manages to smack a hoof against his flank, but his dodge away from her lessened the impact considerably. After studying her for a moment, he leaps forwards in a charge, swapping leads halfway through, and tries to barrel into her left shoulder like he did in Dullness, Danger, Delivery, to try and injure her right foreleg/knock her down. He attempts to smack his head against her ribs to cause her some pain, and uses the soft fur of her hide to slide his head up to her wither. He tries to grab hold of her mane there to keep her close to him, and stomps down on her left heel (Coronet band, if you want specifics for your post).}

"Whistle"