It had been a hunch, but I knew one would arise. Craving battle, craving the sweaty stench of flesh and the stale copper taste of blood as their morning mediation. My right forelimb slapped against earth impatiently, scattering dust in the dry Orangemoon air. The ground was soft and forgiving, yet solid enough by the presence of hundreds who had danced before. Today’s opponent came from the sky, his wings dark and leathery. Fina shifted her gaze rather sharply in his direction—we both knew who was coming before his hazy shape had full formed. Satanic Silk. She hissed hatefully and took wing, “I help this time?” I smiled a little, so quick was my brave little flame to assume that everyone who flew overhead wanted to brawl. “Nay.”

But her instincts were correct on this one, he landed a short distance away. Scattering the sand and calling my name, absent fluffy title. “Satanic Silk,“I replied in turn, a smirk that mimicked his own slithered across my maw. When he jested upon my age I grinned wider and shuffled right a few steps; dancing upon the ground as if weightless and thrusting crown toward breast in a Soldiers salute. “Yar, brother.”

"Let’s see how much this old fellow can teach,” I thought evenly. Fina held back, not exactly content on just watching.

I only used my full power against enemies of our family. It was dangerous to use this full force against brethren—no matter how much I yearned to feel the sweet slide of power grasping the rod of earth and shaking its core. Shuttering my opponent’s stance and confidence. Nay, there was no point in harming the bodies that protected our haven.

For a breath I stood by, observing his physical offerings with unyielding eyes. The towering warmblood wasn’t uncommon to those I’d fought before, height had advantage in strength. Years of training and agility would hopefully meet those bonuses headon, I learned from Africa’s unyielding limbs that to receive a sharp kick in the ribs from a taller partner wasn’t only shocking but nearly overcoming.

My wings slithered tightly against my barrel, though they are eager to stride apart I held back. Battles weren’t always fought in the sky….

Patched quarters bunch up and forelimbs rise to extend my stride as I leap into a canter. My stride carries me forward, each stocky step slightly digging up earth. I swung right, pretending to start passing his left side but instead planting golden daggers into the ground rather suddenly in an aim for an unexpected surprise once the distance had been closed. Coiled neck pulled away from breast and the cool steel around my shoulders, lips slipped apart to reveal ivories. Like a snake I slithered out to strike at his neck or chest, body weight that had been sat back used the momentum to carry me into a half rear with forelimbs flailing wildly to blunt strike his knees or forearms.

Word count: 256
Attack (1,3)