It had been enough time since Ashamin had lost that he was beginning to forget how easy it was to do. He walked tall through the day with both companions at his side, all of them blinking with obvious frustration at the sun as it hung high in the afternoon. Lochan, barely talking but babbling like a babe, complained loudly in the haruspex's tired mind. Rakt, as usual, made no show of emotion and instead carried on acting as if absolutely nothing in the world could phase him. Perhaps the younger cerndyr's life was simpler like that; it lacked the emotional turmoil that plagued the painted buck.

To wander this very spot, the outskirts of the World's Edge, was to take a step into Ashamin's past. He remembered his very first spar, there, with a stallion named Torleik who'd claimed to be king. Surely that could no longer be the case, or the paint would have scented him all along the border. Ashamin swung his head low, his posture relaxed as he snorted and searched for the same smell of triumph he remembered from so long ago.

There was nothing here though, it seemed, but broken glass. Whatever the Edge had appeared to be to that young, scared Ashamin then was now maybe nothing but a fallen empire. Not long ago he'd gone there in search of a wise one, only to find they had none. He had found only a spotted mare then, full of bitterness. Vaguely the haruspex wondered where she was now, and how she fared. It didn't occur to him that she could be dead.

Seeing the World's Edge the haruspex could not help but remember the spars of his recent and distant past. It was true that the Edge's king (the one he'd known) had defeated him handily, but the last time Ashamin had fought a lord he had won with ease. Thranduil the falsely Laurelin had skulked away in disgusting defeat, apparently too harmed by Hotaru's magic to fight back.

What a waste that stallion was. Ashamin found his hooves landing harder as his blood boiled at the memory of Thranduil's cowardice. The haruspex had not seen the golden liar since; as far as Ashamin was concerned, Thranduil was much better off that way.

Coincidences being what they were in Helovia, the thought of spars seemed to summon forth another. Ashamin's ears perked at the sound of a stranger calling for a spar, and he moved closer to the voice with care. Every step took him farther from the rockier soil of his old spar with Torleik and into a forest more like those he was used to. With hooves aching from a long walk, Ashamin and his companions were all thankful for the switch to softer ground.

The appearance of another before them brought something that the haruspex considered good fortune. Standing in the clearing and pawing at the earth with excitement was another stallion, young like Ashamin and seemingly eager to spar. Ashamin watched for a moment from the trees, eyes sharp and senses keen with those of his two companions contributing to the survey of the scenery. Rakt hovered behind Lochan, Lochan behind Ashamin, and the trio all watched with care. The earth was studded with rocks and divided by a felled tree, clear obstacles that Ashamin would need to avoid but expected he could do so well enough with his companions looking out for him. The stallion was taller than Ashamin, but though he appeared to be sturdier as well the haruspex didn't see anything that suggested his new opponent was any faster or more agile than himself. It was difficult to tell though, when the spar had still yet to begin. What Ashamin did notice was the other buck's horn, curved like a cutlass and surely a deadly weapon. Behind him, imperceptibly, Rakt shivered at the sight of it and shook stardust from his coat.

"Time is precious indeed, let's begin" the haruspex called out as he left the grove and entered the clearing alone, first at a trot and then at a balanced canter. His companions, ever loyal, stayed hidden behind the trees. Ashamin approached almost head on, aiming for the stallion's left side at an acute angle with his head held high and his sole accessories (the amulets and crystal fang strung on his neck) flying behind as he reached out with his magic to try and send a shock to his eager opponent's heart. Let that pain send shudders through the boy's legs and weaken him, so that when Ashamin hopefully slammed into the other's left side that superior strength and height would be made null, and that positioning would put Ashamin's heart and face by this paint's croup and away from that dangerous horn.