The stallion smiled and stomped his foot. For a split second d'Artagnan thought he had caught the paint in a moment of arrogance and that his life would end there. That was until, his trust in nature was shattered.

Hooves flicked and the ground shook. A surface once so dependable became his worse enemy, the rear end support crumbled and the blood bay stumbled backwards. His balance severed in what seemed like; an earthquake? Pupils dilated as d'Artagnan feared the ground below, like the earth itself had decided to rise up and play it's part against him. This couldn't possibly be because of that fat bare head?! Fumbling, all fours were now on the shaking surface and the Time Mender stumbled around, in effort to regain his balance without losing it all together. It was in his fear of the ground that d'Artagnan lost all sense of bearings and saw Aaron's attack at the last minute. Fore hooves came with vengeance and the shade's attempt to turn away was far too late, instead the Protector found his prize. Feet of a heavy horse hitting into the left of his shoulder forcing a short squeal to escape his angered maw, he fell over himself shirking away from Aaron and his dangerous hooves. A dull pain taking up unwelcome residence in his shoulder, not broken but bruised and battered. He took in deep breaths as he attempted to adjust to the pain.

Puffing and annoyed, he snorted with exertion, a lather of sweat collecting on his neck, his movement marred with a limp of pain. Bastard, go home he threw inwardly at the baby fighter. Who was a lot more experienced in the game of battle than the shade had first thought. His next move would be important, he couldn't afford to misjudge the paint again. d'Artagnan sent a worried look to the ground, would it shake once more? Was he safe? His legs felt a little like jelly, what if it simply opened up and swallowed him whole? The Nightshade shuddered and discarded the thought, fears only clouded the mind on the battlefield. This short arse needed to be taught a lesson.

d'Artagnan prowled to his right, still close to Aaron, eyes of maddening colours always on the boy and body dipped with injury. He had to resist the urge to stop and shower the burning pain with slushy cold snow. Instead he kept his focus. It was a strange thing to fight someone of Aaron's physical stature, he was used to sparring with Kou. A flighty, skinny arabian. If he was being honest, he was struggling to adjust to being the faster sleeker one for a change. Annoyance crept into his gaze, Aaron seemed to be gaining in confidence. Something was driving him on. Tenacious bastard.

A flick of his tail signalled his retaliation, he went in with his right unharmed shoulder and aimed a harsh ripping bite for Aaron's left ear. Again, trying to make use of his height to out manoeuvre the bulky steed before him. Horns ever present just in case Aaron made a wrong move in their direction. Hooves left the ground ever so slightly as his head gained height, leaning into his challenger, eyes wincing at the sharper movement. The fight had reached it's most extreme and d'Artagnan was blowing more than he was at the start. Age was definitely something his opponent had over him.

[w/c :: 571 | 3/4
ooc commentary :: d'Artagnan succumbs to Aaron's War Stomp and backs out of his rear. Frightened by the ground Aaron's attack is successful in hitting and injuring d'Art's left shoulder. Stumbling back once more, d'Artagnan moves to his right, still fairly close to Aaron, and attacks by attempting to bite his left ear whilst leaning into him.]