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You do not shy when the white wolf, many centimeters shorter than you yet nevertheless a predator, leaps away, no, instead you curve your head, arching your alabastar neck, your mane falling in rippling pearl waves, with chestnut standing out brightly against it. For a moment you feel an unsettling pang of dissatisfaction, that your galloping mass had not brought this wolf stumbling under your cloven hooves, but at least, perhaps a tidy bit of alicorn work could fix the problem satisfactorily. But the brief moments have passed, and you must concede it will not work to turn around and go charging back. Instead, you settle your weight and shift, keeping light on your pale cloven feet, watching the white wolf, waiting to see what he would do so brilliantly. You curse the tundra beast from not allowing a single blow to land on him, for it simply was not fair.
Yet you need not worry that he would be too poor of an opponent, for white ghost substance pours out of him, sending you reeling back, for once terror striking into your heart as you recall the monstrous creature whom you had demanded a fight with, with antlers on his brow and hideous wings at his back. But mostly, you remember with a faintness of frozen heart of his own magic, the summoning of a pale silver spectre, a bear that had deadened her heart and mind, numbed her to all but a clutching sense of fear that voraciously dug in white fangs and did not let her go, shook you until you trembled and then, only then, did its freezing presence leave you, filling you with hot fury on the one who dared commit such atrocious feelings onto you.
Even as your mind goes racing over these thoughts, body freezing over, fearful at what the white fog may bring, your eyes take note that the fog is forming physical shapes, even if they are more hideous than horses and pegasi, malformed and rotting. Three wolves, each missing a piece of hide here and there, a broken rib or shoulder, all bleeding in various places and each and every one grotesquely scarred. You rumble softly somewhere in your chest, a grumbling sigh as you prepare herself, backing to one of the pines surrounding the glade. It was a simple, well-known tactic- get your backside to a wall when facing multiple opponents, so you would not risk getting taken down from behind.
They come trotting, of all paces, and you resist the urge to smirk. A spar, maybe, but a trot! For some reason you could not quite name, it bothered you. Perhaps it made the spar seem so much more comical, as opposed to serious. For you did take each and every fight as seriously as a challenge for authority- for one day, this will build you up to become a powerful mare. If you fooled around, there was no point. If you did not give it your all, every time, it was an idiot's errand.
For a moment you hover uncertainly, not knowing who to tackle first. Eventually, you decide on the wolf coming in to your right side. You jab quickly with your frosted horn, more to knock him away than truly hurt him- could they be hurt- while shifting over, lashing out at the wolf that tried to attempt at your left flank. As quickly as you can, you come back to the center, but even than you are a few seconds late. Jaws of the white wolf nip just above the knee, pinching the soft flesh, while the undead wolf, perhaps unable to think for himself, goes lunging past. You do not waste more time here, trying to decide where to go- you rear, a smaller rear to save time, aiming for a strong blow to the wolf's shoulder. Fuck the spar, and fuck gentling the blow- you had entered into one of your erratic bouts of cruelty, and all you wanted for this boy was to feel pain, pain that he would dare cheat on this and use four wolves instead of him alone, the arrogant bastard!
You slam down your hooves, (whether that be on his shoulder or ground) and canter, aiming to score a long, shallow lash down the right side of his back, lashing out a kick from your hind legs towards his ribcage, all while you move to your left, running parallel to the wolf- with you on the left, of course.
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A howl calling you to battle [Sno]
