Ohhh.

If she could bend that way, she'd kick herself. Rookie error, Nyx. Her desire to be nice and not shish kebab her king with her horn had overriden her logic, not to mention everything screaming this is a test. A test she'd just failed. Oh balls. Had her desire to become a warrior just been crushed by her own stupidity?

Hell, no. She was going to show her spotted monarch that whilst she was not infallible, and did make mistakes, she did not make the same mistake twice. She was going to spar his perky little ass off.

Her neck arches to throw up her proud head, digging her hooves deep into the frozen ground to slide to a halt as Mauja does. "Point taken," she says, blowing slightly as shame spasms through her once again. Then he's off again, and she delves inside her mind to steel her thoughts into pillars of ice and snow. The spotted fiend running from her is not her king, he's an assassin and a monster and a devilish beast come to slaughter her friends, to place a knife in their slumbering backs. He's a shadow in the night, a threat that needs to be stopped. Her eyes - usually so alight with electricity - darken like shut windows, every line of her body hardening into a warrior protecting her herd.

Her ears swing backwards into the storm-tossed strands of her mane and she throws herself forwards, kicking up her heels and paying no heed to the icy conditions underfoot, not this time. This time, he is a threat that needs to be eliminated, and she'll be damned if a little bit of snow is going to stop her fufilling her duty. She is the herd's protector, and it is her job to ensure the safety of her sleeping compatriots. If she trips and shatters a leg on the uneven ground whilst chasing down her enemy, at least she will die knowing she did her duty for King and country. No longer is this a gentle canter under moonlight with her leader - now it's life or death, fight or flight, kill or be killed.

Loosen up and let go? Hell yes.

Their last run was a warm-up, to loosen her muscles and allow her stride to open as she churns through the gears. Dominus gives a bellow of disgust as he has to alter his path and run in the opposite direction; headlong gallops aren't his strong point, however, with his thick mane and bulky posture. He won't catch either unicorn and will only tire himself out if he continues his pursuit. Instead the mare lets him play to his strengths as a carnivore, by using her brain as well as her brawn to protect her herd, as Mauja would want. How did lions hunt? They ambushed, the men lurking in the shrub as the women chased the prey towards them, and Dominus dives into a nearby snow-covered bush, a hidden weapon waiting to be deployed.

Now it's up to the lioness to corral the prey.

Countless generations of her mongrel blood lend her speed, and she aims to pull close behind Mauja but just off to his left, to try and avoid getting a double-barrelled punch from those back legs. Closer and closer she tries to pound, her legs a blur beneath her as her hooves use instinct and prayer to land on the least slippery parts of the iced ground. Her lips peel and her head lunges forwards as she attempts to bite him, hard, on his left flank. Her blunt teeth cannot hope to rip into flesh as Dominus' razor fangs would, but she hopes the sudden pinch if she hits will cause him to veer right, taking that firm little butt of his with him...but no, it's not the handsome rear end of her king, it's the blood-soaked and sweat-laden flanks of a murderer, it's the muscles and the heaving flesh of a man she has to stop, or die trying...

Simultaneously, the front-right edge of her right shoulder tries to press to the right as well, hoping to jam into spotted enemy's upper left hindleg, to try and push against him and upset his balance. He's almost two damn hands bigger than her, so she cannot hope to barge him over with brute force alone, but she hopes a firm, insistent pressure will disrupt his stride and push him right, always right, where Dominus prowls through the bushes like a white nighmare. Maybe her shoulder will ache against his pulsing hindlegs, cause one errant hoof to hit a patch of black ice, send him tumbling down to the hard ground where she can end him with one joust of her blood-hungry black horn...

Because this is war.

___________

@[Mauja]

1/3 - 798 words