KAHLUA

The mare was no scholar, no student, no learned creature. She should have paid attention as she was kicking out at Destrier, noticed that he had turned to protect the most vital portions of his body from her onslaught, and stored that information for use at a later date. She should have cared to notice, but as quick as the idea of a teaching spar had come into her head, it had flitted back out again. In her depression, her mind did not want to stay focused on one task for very long and she had offered all the attention she could muster in trying to remember all the fights she had been in before.

Still, Destrier was no mind reader and he could not know that her heart was suddenly not in the fight. His rump rose up from the ground before her bite could land, the stallion's faster reflexes a product of his superior training, and Destrier's well-muscled hindquarters smashed into her lower jaw. Her teeth slammed together and the queen suddenly found herself in a very familiar situation. The head injury that Aurelia had given her, clearly not entirely healed, flared back up. Immediately, her head was pounding and the world around her was spinning. As if the poor queen wasn't beaten up enough already, Destrier began shouting at her. Couldn't he see she had a headache?

Reflexively, the queen's ears fell back upon her head, trying to drown out the noise; still, Destrier's bellow and his mighty voice rammed itself into her head. Her sergeant would not be ignored, it seemed; however, all his words did was anger her. It was not what he said- if she had bothered to listen she might have found that he was making plenty of sense. No, it was the fact that he was yelling at her. Couldn't he see her head was swimming, her heart was broken, her soul was shattered? Couldn't he see that she didn't want this anymore?

But perhaps he was just trying to teach her a lesson- that if she asked for something she had to see it through to the end. The queen did not know his intent. Between the rhythmic throbbing in her skull and the barking commands from the black stallion, Kahlua's general awareness of the situation was lacking. A shame, as it were. She noticed only at the very last minute that he was barreling right towards her very exposed left side. She bunched her muscles, tried to jump forward, but it was too little too late. Her sergeant slammed his chest into her left hip, violently throwing her body to the side, a new pain wrecking her body and she squealed from the sensation. Unsurprisingly, the assault gave the queen no relief from her mental anguish.

Her feet struggled for purchase as her body flew to the right, her rear limbs nearly buckling underneath her and throwing her onto the ground. Somehow (by the will of her Moon Goddess, perhaps?) the queen managed to gain some footing and remain upright. Indeed, she had stumbled so far to the side that Destrier's hooves barely grazed over her flesh as he kicked out at her. “Well you don't have to shout at me!” she whined back at him suddenly, a childish impudence in her voice. She was hardly the regal queen her herd imagined her to be- blame it on her pounding head.

But perhaps his shouting and attack had awoken something more primal in her soul, because the queen found that she was moving without even thinking about it. Her stride was not long or graceful; in fact, she limped quite severely on her hind left limb, the muscles already swelling and tightening in resistance. But she was determined now- Destrier had shouted at her and assaulted her and she felt this strange need, an insistent desire, to show him that she was not totally useless.

She dug her hooves into the ground, squealing again from her throbbing head and painful limb, but determined to catch him. She had an idea, a memory of an attack, and she was eager to implement it. She cantered forward, hoping to pass by his left side, get her hip about even with his shoulder, and then buck. If she could manage it, she would aim for his hind limb, remembering how terrible it had been when Ricochet had assaulted her gaskin and cannon. For good measure, she threw her body to the right, attempting to press her uninjured right side against Destrier and throw him off track, perhaps to make him stumble or falter. Of course, the silly queen never bothered to consider his bulk against hers. But ah, that is why she had asked him to teach her, was it not?

Post| 2/3
WC| 798

the sunshower