HEROES MAY DIE

It was when he felt a rough scrape upon his teeth that the stallion knew he'd hit his mark, revealing a strip of bare, pink skin upon the winged mare's cheek. It was a simple wound, one you could blame upon the scratch of a low tree branch, and wasn't anything to be particularly proud of. But it did show just how close the pair had been, locked in their mock fight, and the possibilities were endless on what he could have done if this were a real battle. Then again, the mare's hooves wound have been flying, making it all the more difficult to execute a well placed attack.

They were yin and yang as they moved about one another, seeming to hold one another's gaze as they planned their next attack. Her eyes were eerily black, with no color stepping forth whenever the light dared to shine upon them. It seemed only to last another moment, however, when the neutral colored woman came charging at him yet again, ears tipped back in concentration. Those soulless black eyes were impossible to read, but he wouldn't simply stand there and wait for her to get her attack in. Thinking quickly, he turned at a forty-five degree angle, turning his hindquarters towards her and putting his barrel at a skewed angle. It had prevented her teeth from meeting his ear, but...

Whether it had been a good move or not, he didn't know, for he still felt the blunt of her hooves, except instead of his barrel, they managed to meet his thigh. It was thick with muscle, thankfully lessening the blow, but that didn't mean it wasn't painful. It was a sharp, deep pain, perhaps a little too forceful for a simple spar, especially when it had obviously been meant for his less protected barrel.

It reminded him of a time long ago, back in Vallhea, during his first couple of years with Bran. He had always been equipped with protective armor whenever war was in the air, but when they were on a leisurely ride just to get away from the hustle and bustle of the village, it was different. Leather barding had been traditional there, and that was what his rider always situated upon him on their off days. On one such ride, they had been attacked by an unforseen enemy, and an arrow had pierced the Friesian's thigh. Normally it wouldn't have caused anything but a dent in the thick armor hanging at his sides, but the puckering skin of an old scar on his left side was enough to tell the story on it's own.

Although adrenaline was hardly enough to keep the pain of the kick from flaring, it was enough to dull the edge of it, and give him enough focus to judge his next attack. He would have kicked out, but the mare had surely moved well out of the way before he could. Pushing against the ground and turning on his hocks, the stallion plunged into a gallop, headed straight for his opponent. Given the short distance between them, he could only hope that she wouldn't have enough time to comprehend what was going on, or what to do next. Keeping his head up, the stallion made to run right into the mare in hopes to knock her over, but should she move just right, his teeth were searching for her wings, her back; anything they could get ahold of to cause another minimal injury. For even if she had aimed her kick to harm him, he would not go down the same path until it became too much.

______________________________
WC - 607
Attack - 2/2
Summary - Kicked in the thigh. Charges at Svetlana in hopes to knock her over, and if she moves, tries to bite.

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE