Second, he sees her splashed white face marking, almost a mirror-image of his own. His savage crimson gaze settles appraisingly upon it, finding her deliciously attractive. Stout, blessed with all the rampant curves of femininity, she is a pleasure to behold. She is smaller than he is - most people are - and looks to be a similar age, so he cannot help but wonder about her level of experience. Overall she appears well-balanced and able-bodied - a worthy opponent.

The sand he has chosen to fight on is quite wet, which means it doesn't give to his weight as much as the softer sand does. However, it still sucks unpleasantly at his massive hooves and he can hazard a guess that his greater weight and size will result in him being more affected by it, especially as the fight nears its conclusion and his stamina begins to fail. Like him, the mare is dark-furred, meaning she will hopefully suffer in the sun as much as the leviathan himself does, and he files this useful fact away into the depths of his brain.

She prowls towards him, and despite all his training - endless hours spent trying to resist the allure of mare, trying to remind himself that he is a colossal future king and not a simple animal to be dominated by his instincts - he cannot help the sultry darkening of his eyes and the sudden tingle of need in his groin. Shit. He fights to snatch hold of his resolve and harden it like a weapon, but his lust is quite evident in the hooded shadows of his eyes and the eager stomp of one thickly-feathered forehoof. "Tease," he growls at her in his rough earthquake of a voice, unable to snatch his eyes away from the swing of her hips and the delectable purr of her words.

Which, undoubtedly, is precisely the effect she wanted to have on him. The beast falls freely into her trap, ensnared like a rabbit in a thorn thicket.

She moves towards his left shoulder, and the mammoth pins his ears as he automatically shifts backwards. But it is a feint, and suddenly her hooves are where her head was a moment ago; Volterra flings his weight backwards once again and as a result her hooves only scuff the thick muscle of his left shoulder rather than slamming directly into it. It forms a small, light bruise that irritates with a slight pulsing pain, not enough to affect his movement but enough to warn him that this woman knows her stuff. This clearly isn't her first rodeo, and the behemoth's face twists into a savage smile of delight.

If she is competent, it will make it all the more satisfying when he brings her to her knees.

She skips away in the aftermath of her attack, but it would be foolish for the stallion to simply allow her to dictate the battle as she pleases. It is in his best interests to keep her close, to prevent him having to pursue her around the beach and sap his strength any faster than necessary - he can already feel the scorching heat creating a sheen of sweat on his skin, and his legs feel leaden and sluggish. With a rumbling snort, the goliath launches after her, attempting to approach from directly behind her as she shifts away from him. He is relying on the fact that she won't expect him to come for her in this manner, given the strength of her hindquarters and the pain a direct kick could cause him; indeed, the beast's tactic is at best risky and at worst downright foolhardy, but it involves the least amount of movement on his part.

He attempts to slam his massive chest hard into the mare's rump to try and barge her forwards and unbalance her; simultaneously his jaws snap forwards in an attempt to plant a series of hard, dominating bites upon the dock of her tail. She needs to learn that her womanly wiles do not entirely remove the battle-hardened part of his brain, that he is not a complete fool for the attentions of a mare.

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Spar for @Sjal !

Set near the shore in the Endless Blue, on a hot summer's day. Up to you about using magic/companions ^_^

1/3 - 785 words