Word had reached pale harks.

They have tried to take our little ones.

Azale was a name unfamiliar to the giant man, but his teeth had ground and his jaw had clenched until pain had fired through his synapses when he had at last been informed. What sick devil tried to spirit away a youngling from the loving home they knew? It had boiled the WeyrLeader's blood until it ran thick and hot like lava, his fury nearly enough to seize the darkened skies above by force to illuminate them once more in carmine streaks. Realistically he could not, but it would not stop him from smearing the blood of his foe along the pale earthen tones of his thick pillars. Kaj would seize them by the throat, throw them around as if they held no weight to throw him. He would show them that nobody messed with a singer of Luna, that the World's Edge would destroy all who tried to harm their family. Kaj had been set upon the scent, and like a bloodhound he pursued it viciously, sweet face struck in anger and captured in stone. He does not tire himself, refusing to give the opponent he is searching for the advantage, but also finding the idea of tripping and sprawling over the ground rather unappealing. So he hunts on, a swift-footed archer trailing a clueless buck.

Kaj of course is not so silent of tread. He is a massive beast, and though his mother had lent him the longer spine and leaner frame, he did not possess fully the grace she had always displayed. The steady rolls of thunder he summons into the ears of all those around echo forth from his hooves beneath his substantial musculature. Icy earth cannot withstand the force of his passing, clumps flying around him as he snorts like some wild stallion from centuries ago, when conversation was held only in the flicker of harks and the flashing of teeth. A primal world. Twisted trees are all that light his way, leaves glowing upon similarly luminescent branches. It is all that keeps the enraged WingLeader from crashing into the various redwoods that reach towards a sun that no longer exists in the rolling land of the Meadows. Frostfall has killed all possible life, even the thistle wilts with the combination of a frozen world and lack of nutrients. Kaj swears as he crushes these brittle stalks beneath his mass that the Assassin that tried to steal precious Azale would fall and break similarly.

Like hell he'd let the cur get away with trying to steal the one thing most precious to the WingLeader. Nobody- nobody- harmed a child sheltered beneath his wings.

Into the darkness he bellows, a roar of thunder that belies the name his beloved companion had given him upon their meeting- a winged lion. He summons the devil spawn, Tonka, and he does so with fury in every crashing tone. He is not just from the World's Edge. He is the World's Edge. In his heart beats the crashing waves against the cliffs that give his home its name. In his actions lies the mysticism of the fog that flows eerily throughout the forests every dawn. The pines that sheltered them, those that had always stood strong and unyielding, lived in his bones and held him similarly. So in his summons, the strength of every individual who would die for their WeyrLeaders, who would fight until the last spill of blood, echoes in a rising chorus of voices that scream in outrage. They shall not fall. They shall not falter or fail.

They are the World's Edge.

It is more than just Kaj. It is more than one sole stallion who calls out to the heathen who tried to harm their youth.

The glow of the lanterns above is where he stops, circling restlessly, remembering the fight with Maskan that had won him his title. The scar upon his foreleg reminds him that he has earned this, that he is no child. The air is cold, the wind is harsh. It slaps and stings just as it had on the arid plain where he had fought the fire twin, whips his locks into a hellish blaze of ivory upon his majestically arched neck. The land is flat, the flora cropped and harsh beneath his walkers. And there he stands, a restlessly pacing lion, sharp azure eyes watching for his prey.

Only one shall win today.

---

• Official Challenge: Kaj vs @[Tonka]; Kaj fighting for Tonka's freedom due to Tonka attempting to steal Azale Moniet Here
  
• 4 posts minimum per fighter as stated by the Official Challenge details in the Battle Rubric. 72 hour wait time between posts before an automatic forfeit, unless the present fighter is willing to wait, or would like an incomplete judging.
  
• All magic/companions/items are allowed.
  
• Should Tonka lose, he shall become a prisoner of Kaj and therefore the World's Edge. Should Kaj lose, Tonka may choose his own fate similarly.
  

Weather/Environment:
-Harsh, cold winds with no real direction (storm-like conditions where the wind cannot be determined as blowing North, South, East, or West)
-The ground is flat and hard due to the soil being iced over from winter. Not easy to kick up, somewhat slippery.
-The grasses/thistle that are native to the Thistle Meadow are cropped short and very brittle/dead due to lack of sunlight and Frostfall's influence
-Light snowflakes in the wind signify a snowstorm is approaching, but only the snowflakes themselves shall be taken into account physically during battle as the storm will not likely pass during the fight
-The few redwoods around are not going to influence the battleground, as they are a relative distance away
Post: 1/1 Opening, 0/4 Attacks, Defense goes to Tonka as he should be attacking first
Word Count: 758 Words
Good luck!