In mere moments, Crowley found himself beneath Levi, the fool rearing and thus exposing his very tender underside. The brindle was terribly disappointed that his horns only seemed to have pierced the grullo's chest; oh, how he would have loved to see the length of his belly sliced open and his life-force, among other things, pouring out. He could try again later, but for now, he had other things to worry about in regards to flying hooves.

Levi's hooves were successful in knocking into his topline and then into his withers, causing a throaty grunt of pain to leave his lips. The hit to the top of his neck would do little more than bruise and be sore for several days, if not a couple weeks, but the strike to his withers was more painful and would linger for a longer time. Each hit flared with pain, white-hot especially upon his withers, but Crowley was in no position to stay where he was any longer than he had already been there. Shifting himself to the right, he took off into a canter, ears tipping backwards in mild annoyance as his shoulders flared in time to the beat of his hooves.

The Weaver had expected the Throat stallion to come to his left, but he was proved wrong when he heard the other stallion approaching from his right. The two of them were almost exact in height as well as build, so a ramming from the grullo wouldn't be as terribly detrimental as it could be from an even larger stallion. Crowley doubted he had the advantage of speed, either, considering his rank didn't require too much activity and thus, he never found himself building stamina as much as a soldier might. Instead, before Levi could get too close, he kicked out and to the right, aiming for the stud's side, head, legs; whatever he could manage to get a hit on.

However, the grullo launched himself to the left, pushing his chest into Crowley's right hip and effectively shoving him. It nearly sent his hind legs out from under him, and Crowley had to struggle to keep himself upright at such a speed as he was going, especially in the sloppy, sandy footing so graciously provided by the Throat. Head lowered to try and help keep his balance, the brindle managed to straighten back out after what should have been four or five strides, only to be met by teeth when he pulled his head back up. They scraped and pulled away at the skin on the middle of his neck, managing to leave a bare patch on his dark hide. It was a quick, sharp pain, but would be more of a nuisance than anything else as this battle resumed.

From where he was, positioned no more than a hundred yards away from the pair, Talbot watched Levi with hungry eyes, pacing along at what would currently be Levi's right side, ready to leap forward and run in for another attack on the Pegasus.

Dropping his hind-end and cranking his front legs to help him stop, Crowley turned his head to the right and aimed to take a bite out of Levi's rump as he passed by. His stop was made more difficult than it should have been due to the sand underfoot, sending him sliding a few more feet before he finally stopped. Straightening back up, Crowley turned himself to the left and continued at a trot, head turned to watch Levi's form for the next oncoming attack. Crowley was thankful for the Moon's light from above, otherwise, he wasn't sure he'd be able to see his opponent at all.

"C'mon," the brindle spoke up with a wide, conniving grin marring his face, golden eyes shining with malice, "Is that all you've got?"

[WC ;; 635. 3/4 attacks. 1/2 magic/companion uses.]