His words were met with silence, punctuated by the white clouds of their breaths steaming towards the sky. Mauja's pulse was solid and steadfast in his veins, a drumming noise in his ears, filling up the space left by the lack of words. Somewhere above the clouds the sun shone in all his golden glory, but beneath the dismal blanket snow and some kind of faux-dusk ruled; the lack of light did not bother him, nor the blend of gray on gray. The bright red of Voodoo's muzzle had him sticking out like a sore thumb, and vaguely humorous thoughts floated through his mind as he waited, still as a statue. Only the wind tugging at his locks, and the rise and fall of his sides, betrayed that he was alive.

He'd begun to wonder if he'd misjudged the situation, and his words, when Voodoo finally moved — like someone suddenly pulling a trigger after almost lowering the gun the gray stallion tore across the frozen ground, and Mauja followed him with pale blue eyes, still not moving from his spot. He even cocked a hip, lazily, smiling all the while. He wasn't sure why he did it, why it somehow felt so good to be the snowman not melting in the fire-breath, even though it was almost like taunting his opponent.

When Voodoo was a step out, Mauja placed all four feet on the ground again. It wouldn't do to get knocked back down the path and tumble off. It was far too long down.

Time seemed to slow when the gray stallion rose, and for a moment Mauja wondered if he was going to stand there — if he was just going to let himself get beaten.. it almost felt like it, like he'd just turn and look the other way while blows rained down, but somewhere, a neuron fired and things seemed to make more sense. Reality caught up, but not in the shocking, horrifying way it had when he'd impaled Torasin upon a spike; rather, it came with a flash of heat, a flash of cold, an unholy blend and suddenly he was moving, leaning left, into the touch of dark hooves; they missed the point of his withers, sliding down the right side instead, fairly harmless and painless. Quickly his head snapped left, aiming for the skin of Voodoo's flank, or hip; the calm smile had spread into a grin, his heart not so heavy in his chest anymore.

He felt lighter than he had in days — months — and somehow, he wanted to laugh even as he leaned left, neatly shifting his hooves on the frozen ground to try and push the shorter stallion over backwards.

[ 1/4 :: 449 words. ]