He stands alone in the middle of a battlefield- untouched by those surrounding him. ARIADNE has fallen back from him now and flecks of her blood have come to his attention. Blood is everywhere, all around them. His storm subsides, having done its work. The ground is now coated in a thin sheet of snow in the areas where ARIADNE and LOCKET had stood. As the last flakes fall to the rough dirt of the foothills land, he hears the sounds of their galloping across the field. There are cries everywhere. Everything is sound, free and full of fear. Birch does not feel the fear.
His metal-wrapped hoof strikes the earth like a spade, leaving a dent in its suddenly frigid surface and causing snow to splash up around his legs. He feels the chill up to his knees- feels the rush as the cold fills the gouge-like stripes across his cannons.

In the distance, ARIADNE gallops away from the cluster of fighters. A wicked frown passes across his lips; a sad sort of relief settles in the pit of his stomach. She is alone, surrounded by friends or even allies. Her vulnerability while so apart from the fight makes her the easy target, now. Shame on her for thinking such a thing of him, he thinks with an inward grunt.

His gallop is slow in comparison to all others populating the field, but the thin layer of grass, grown fresh and green in early Tallsun, and his own snow, now settled on the earth, muffles his sound somewhat. He feels the heat of the sun on his back as he runs towards the mountain and the lone mare. She will feel his hate of life and his longing for death all in one blow.

He does what he can to run up to her left side; leans onto his well-built left legs and attempts to ram into her side. His chest tenses and strains, suffering from the new bruising, as his neck bends in protection for whatever she might try. His tree, rough and sturdy, hopefully scrapes her side as he moves on, but he cannot stop to see the effect. He must go on, he urges himself. He must persevere, he insists. Insists until he is past her only slightly- insists until his body leans carefully forward onto his forelegs and his weight shifts to the sturdy pole of his lifeplant. Two, clear hind hooves take to the air and strike out twice in rapid succession, aiming for her left back end. There is a flash of fury in his white eyes as the sun, which seems to be dying as it casts long shadows across the field. But it is newly born, as is the day- as is this victory to come. He is certain of this, as he feels the firmness of the earth fill in beneath his landing hooves and continues on and away from the battlefield.

He is sure, even as he turns to launch himself into the fray, to gallop before Ophelia, his leader in white, his savior from the snow once in the Frostbreath Steppe. He is sure as he twists around the battlefield and slides towards Ktulu, the enchanting dark constrictor. He is in the middle of it all, strong and severe. He is power.

[[ WC: 558 || MU: 1/2 || INJ: Chest bruises (R1), None (R2) || SUM: Runs up to Ariadne’s left, tried to ram into her left side. Runs past a bit and bucks to try and kick her left hind area. Runs away some more, turns and runs back into things to stand in front of Ophelia and then Ktulu. || N: none ]]