There is a lingering edge of doubt, a moment of frozen curiosity where she wonders idly if he will be disgusted, if he will find her sudden antics simply too much, and does not care. Like dust caught in a sunbeam, discomfort and fear float aimlessly through the air, suspended against the bright backdrop of simple nonchalance, an abrupt delight in the simple act of living. She has fought with this stallion long enough, not a physical fight but a barrage of wills and personalities; a dance as much as a battle, two personalities weaving and crashing against one another, subtle conflict and vibrant pleasure in the company of one another, tainted with the drawbacks of disastrous misunderstanding. She is worn, she is weary; she enjoys his friendship too much to break upon him, too much to let her mind stand between them any longer.

The moment passes, the brief flicker of endless space suddenly drawn short, and they are close, locked together by the bright glitter of their eyes and the searing ferocity of their minds. She laughs at his violent response to her sudden onslaught, laughs in the face of his feral nature, laughs joyfully at the effects of her actions, the dampened mane lying flush against his muscular neck, the darkened patches of moist hair upon his chest. Her mirth does not end as he speaks, but quiets, and as his words finish she shoots her own over them, a mocking taunt in her accented tones. "Nor do I, but you are but a poor invalid, so I thought I might-"

The words die in her throat, smothered and drowned by his sudden movement, the shrill cold of water splashed across her face. She gasps loudly, dark sides working furiously to take in oxygen, sputtering her indignation and slashing charred hooves against troubled water. She rises onto slender hinds, pivoting and veering to avoid his attack, narrow ears tight against her skull. The unfortunate wave marks a path across her right side, dark splatters from crown to barrel marking pinpoints where the water struck her, sharp needles of refreshment and painful relief from the summer sun. Solidly she lands, and scrambles, dished hooves seeking purchase against the sandy bottom of the pond, before lunging at him, past him, so very close to him, shoving out her hooves to force waves against the sky. She lashes out with teeth too, a sharp nip aimed towards the dock of his fiery tail.

She grins back at him, sending one last kick into the still waters as her body draws away from his, the momentary closeness lost as she tries to flutter away, determined to have the last laugh. Oh, she knows how to fight; Life with twin brothers was ever a competition, a battle of minds and love and laughter. If he wants a war, he will get one.

In the oppressive light of day, she laughs.