The voice rang out loud and clear, reverberating throughout the frozen land for all to hear. It was with the skip of his heart that Xanthos realized that this challenge was directed right at him, demanding that he come forth and present himself immediately. From the moment he had stolen Mirage, he had anticipated that a fight might come of it, but nothing directed solely at him. He did not want to fight, not when there were others in the Basin much more capable, but now, as Mirage's guard, it was his duty. Surely Romani would be found and dragged here if he simply gaze the Weyrleader up, for despite her fiery nature, the palomino would not be able to fend off the likes of some of his fellow Plague brethern.

With a deep breath, the grullo stepped out from the shelter of the icy caves, and out into the chilly morning air. His golden eyes locked onto the painted draft, instantly going to work at sizing her up. She was much larger than himself, both in height and pure bulk. Xanthos, being of a shorter stature, would be at a disadvantage when it came to power, but with his build, speed was on his side. "I am Mirage's guard," he spoke, his slitted pupils unstraying from the mare's still form. Try as he might, he simply could not read this stranger the same as others. Was she personal acquaintances with Mirage, or had she been sent here in regards to another secrect organization? All these curious questions and more, but none wise enough to ask at this time.

Xanthos had never enjoyed anything more than a friendly spar, and would hardly know of a true battle if not for his homeland in Melhaven. The thick canopy of the tropic island had provided endless opportunities to the wide range of predators there, and more than once, the stallion had found himself nose to nose with a hungry jaguar. It was with these vicious cats that the grullo had learned to truly fend for himself, but when compared to another equine of large stature, the differences were made painfully clear. He could not trample this mare, not that he wanted to, and while he could turn tail and run away, the victory wouldn't be the same as escaping the spotted cats.

His thoughts of home were quick to disipate, however, when he saw the draft lunge forward in a charge.

Considering the distance between the them, Xanthos had plenty of time to react. Hauling his weight onto his haunches, the stallion rose high into the air just as she struck out at him. A good move, he thought, for her massive hooves could land him in a world of hurt if they managed to meet his head. Being taller than he, the mare's teeth were successful in their attempts, nabbing the tender skin where his ear blended into his skull, exposing flesh and bringing forth a spurt of blood. It was a burning sensation, one that would surely last for far longer than he cared to think about, but at least it would heal one day. The black-tipped right ear situated itself against his poll, pressing close against the wound.

Dropping back down to all fours, the snow beneath their feet made its presence well known, nearly taking the stallion's balance away. He had lived in the Steppe long enough to grow accustomed to such slick footing, but that did not take away the slippery element of the snow. Now, standing face to face with the paint, the grullo found the ideal opportunity to return an attack of his own. Muscles tensing beneath him, the stallion propelled himself forward to the best of his ability against the snow, and aimed his crystalline horn right for the mare's shoulder. The scalene group of muscles lay beneath there, and while difficult to reach, they would prove a painful injury if deep contact was made, perhaps even prohibiting the full range of motion of the neck. But the simple move to the side would render his attack mostly pointless, leaving her with only a cut, or even a scratch depending on her speed.

Was this really what it had to come down to? Xanthos, this otherwise gentle soul, fighting with all his might to defend a prisoner? The grullo hated himself to think that it had, but until the battle was over, he would continue on until he could no more.

WC - 747
Defense - Rears up to avoid being clobbered by Tor's hooves, but is bit behind his right ear.
Attack - Charges forward and aims his horn for Tor's shoulder area.
OOC - 1/4. Also, please correct me if I mess anything up on here, tis my first fight on Helovia!

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I can see you're losing it