( I'm sorry you lost the other post. <3 and I deserve to be smacked for my last attack, I apparently didn't even write out what I'd attacked with -facepalms- I had meant a bite but oh well my bad xD Here we go, Mauja the Accidental Stabber! )

Voodoo's weight against his withers amused him, mainly because it meant he had the gray stallion at a disadvantage, a puppet to dance to his whims — and whimsical he was, easily bearing both their balances upon his sturdy legs. Irma, appearing somewhere in the snowy haze, laughed in his soul and showed him what they looked like, what an awkward dance pair, Voodoo hooked over his back and quite busy trying to get down. If Mauja had been a wolf, he would've lolled his tongue out in a humorous grin, but as it was, he kept his tongue between his teeth and felt the tip of his horn slide into flesh. Fortunately, he didn't aim too badly, and while the cut would heal into a nice scar, it wouldn't leave any lasting damage. Fresh blood spilled into the air, the peculiar scent blending with Voodoo's anger; the mind of a prey found the smell distasteful and frightening, an instinct that was hard to remove completely. Instead, he merely ignored it, that uncomfortable tingle down his spine, and took pleasure in the little game he played with the other.

Frosted hooves shuffled low above the frozen ground, sinking down into crunching grass or sapping, mostly-cold mud, nothing loose enough to make him slide: he felt secure in his balance, and fortunately, he was herding Voodoo deeper into the fields, and not towards the sheer drops.

But alas, all good times must come to an end. Voodoo finally found his feet and purchase against Mauja's spine; the spotted beast grunted, ears pinning for a moment, but then the weight was lifted and he stepped to the right instead of left, severing their contact. Briefly he wondered what it was like for mares, to stand beneath a heaving stallion — what kind of strength did they possess? Snorting, he cleared his head as Voodoo decided it was pay-back for the dance lesson. Tut tut. Attacking your teacher wasn't the way to go, was it?

Sternly he reminded himself of Voodoo's youth, of his frustration and anger; Mauja might be insane enough to find it hilarious, confident in his abilities and limitations, but if he was to betray too much mirth.. show too much of that mischievous flash in his eyes, who knew if the other would take offense? Mauja didn't want to mock his anger, not when it brought the other to the brink of reason, into daring to combat a stallion four times his age. And so, he kept his mouth shut and schooled his face to a more somber expression, and simply turned his head down and right, feeling teeth clamp shut on his mane and the skin beneath. The flat muscle offered little purchase, but the scrabbling grip raked painfully across his neck, leaving a wet, stinging trail before the red muzzle willingly retreated. Barely had he begun to turn back to keep an eye on the boy when he rose again, and instinct had Mauja ducking; the red horn went safely somewhere over his mane while his heart skipped a beat, wondering if Voodoo truly had meant to spear him, and then that gray-and-red head was pushing against his upper neck, almost a tender action despite the force behind it.

It turned his head sideways again, forcing his neck right, and with somewhat of a resigned sigh Mauja shuffled his haunches left, stepping backwards as quickly as he could, hoping Voodoo wouldn't take off from their parallel position; bowing his head, hoping the other wasn't stupid enough to land on Mauja's horn, Mauja peeled his lip back and aimed a quick bite for Voodoo's chest, mostly just wanting to keep him going until his anger was spent.

After all, Mauja had nothing to win here, and no desire to harm his herdmate.

[ 2/4 :: 632 words. ]