Quickly the shire tucked his chin and turned his head away from Jackal’s back hooves, predicting that the foolish stallion would attempt to lash out at the dark knight’s blazed face. With Jackal on the Chief’s right side, now, feathered white hooves had to opportunity to strike out and demolish something on the pretty stallion’s face.

Lightning struck above the stallions, brightening the sky and the terrain around them. Slowly but surely, rain trickled down from thick clouds above even Dei. The drops splatter and destroy themselves over the black hide of the giant beast, and before Archibald could suck in a full breath the sky let loose its entire fury. The rain hit the ground hard, the sound of it like a monsoon in the Chief’s ears, deafening him to anything that was not important. Gritting his teeth Archibald kept moving his body forward for two steps, just as Jackal tilted his head to strike out at his hip. Thrusting his weight forward Archibald threw his heavy, feathered hooves right for Jackal’s face. Jackal’s teeth rolled over nothing, and if he kept his attack moving forward Archibald would surely knock that pretty little jaw of his off balance. Maybe he will starve to death, Archibald mused with the faintest hint of a smirk assembling in his dark face.

After his kicks, aimed squarely for Jackal’s mouth, were sent out his thick pillar-like legs returned to him. With his balance restored the behemoth pivoted his front end away from Jackal, his rear facing the rusted mutt’s shoulder. Once again, Archibald sent out kicks capable of bone crushing destruction. The power behind Archibald’s attacks was undeniable; his body was composed of raw muscle and trained ability. Archibald’s kicks were sent out at Jackal’s shoulder, aiming for his lower scapula, where it connected with the humerus. Jackal’s deltoid muscle that covered the thick bone were in danger—even his supraspinate muscle was in the way of harm—for Archibald was not messing around. Archibald did not play games.

Mandrake had trained Archibald not to lose, and he would not fall today. The key difference between the Stormchaser and the Dauntless was the lack of courage. Svetlana was a coward, one that fled so easily from her position and from her herd. Archibald was not even close to that. He had been here since Gossamer’s rein—he was one of the first members of this herd—and he would not stand for Jackal to ruin his home. Loretta snarled furiously as she watched Dei fly in the sky, body ready to send her magic out towards him and send him to the ground where she could sink her fangs into him. Thunder shook the earth once more, and the ground soaked with rain. The footing beneath the warriors would soon become slick—hooves would slide this way and that. Archibald’s dark hide was wet already, the cold rain sinking down into his bones. His underbelly stayed dry, with the tall grasses unable to reach it with their long, delicate fingers.

[WC: 681 | 2/4 | Archibald tucks his chin and turns his head away so that if Jackal kicks he will not hit his head or face. Archibald moves forward and kicks out with his back feet to hit Jackal’s face, closer to his mouth. Then Archibald turns so his butt is facing Jackal’s shoulder and kicks out again.]